Love, Your Bastards
by Kuroneko0489
Summary: The Bastard Aristocrats is an up and coming gang trying to make its place in the world of crime. Will it succeed or will it fail?
1. Part I: The Plan

_I'm writing this for clockscountingbackwards on tumblr. Not my best writing, but it's a story. It'll be in four parts._

* * *

**Part I: The Plan**

"Who?"

The thug stands in front of me, his pistol aimed straight at my head. He gives me a puzzled look while his buddies on either side of him chuckle.

"I _said_..." I raise my voice, willing my face to stay emotionless.

_ No fear, Valerie. No fear._

I've dealt with thugs like these before - living on the streets of Dunwall, you're bound to come into contact with them - but as the unfamiliar name escapes from my lips, I can't help but share a bit of the thug's doubt.

"...We're the Bastard Aristocrats."

Now, all the thugs laugh.

"Never heard of no bastard 'ristocats. You look like a bunch of kids playin' dress-up to me."

Sure, I am dressed as a gentleman, but my ruffled blouse is untucked, my breeches of expensive cloth, wrinkled, my hair coming loose from its bun, and as I grip the saber in my hand, it is clear that I am no gentlewoman.

We are a bastardized image of the aristocracy. We wear their wrinkled and stained shirts, vests, and jackets, their tarnished silver broaches on our collars. Our hair is pinned up, ringlets falling from either side, or parted on the left and slicked with grease as the nobles wore it in the old days. Our breeches and hose, riddled with holes and runs, fit awkwardly as they were tailored for someone else. Some aristocrat, wrinkled and gray or even rotting and dead - or maybe a weeper now, or simply in hiding. Our shoes are suede, ruined and water-stained and caked with mud on the bottom. We are the byproduct of the aristocracy's irresponsibility and cruelty. We are bastards.

My father's name is Lord Morgan Pendleton, or so I was told by my mother before she died.

"When I was a slave," she told me. "He came to me. 'Follow me', he said. So, I did. He led me to a rail car and told me to get inside. I had never been in one before, and I marveled at the red velvet seats and the car's sleek exterior. We drove to his estate. I felt as though I was in a dream, and as he led me inside, I nearly fainted. It was so beautiful. Everything glittered and shined. There were so many colors and fabrics, floors of marble and walls of pearl. It was like nothing I had ever imagined.

"I was led upstairs where a bath had been readied for me, and I washed away the years of dirt that had built up between the wrinkles in my skin and under my nails and feet. I was so dirty that the servants had to help scrub me. They pulled at my hair, which was knotted and dry. It seemed as though they worked on me for hours. Maybe they did, and by the time the sun had gone down, I was... I was beautiful. The servants ran a hot iron along my hair, making it straight. It was amazing, like magic. And they wrapped me in a dress of lavender, putting a silk, cream shawl over my shoulders.

" 'Lord Morgan waits for you downstairs, ma'am,' one of the servants said to me. She called _me _'ma'am'. So, I went downstairs, and there he was. Noble as can be - elegant and poised. Distinguished and just... perfect. He stood, and a chair was pulled out just for me. I sat at the table with Lord Morgan Pendleton, and we spoke. He asked me of my dreams and desires, my fears, my demons. And I answered him truthfully - without hesitation. We ate dinner. Though I felt a bit greedy, I ate all of it. It was the best meal I had ever had. Most of the foods I had never even seen before, and Lord Morgan told me what they all were. I drank fine wine and crystal-clear ice water, and after dinner he took me into another room, and we danced to the most beautiful music I had ever heard. It had been years since I had heard music. It was so special. And when our legs grew tired, he picked me up lightly and carried me upstairs.

"I thought I knew what would come next, and the thought of him making love to me was pure bliss, and he lay me down on his bed, taking off his jacket and vest. He beckoned me to sit up and took me lightly by the chin.

" 'Now, my little Pandyssian beauty, we can _really _get to know each other.' I smiled, and he smiled, and he slid the lavender dress from my shoulders, and the feeling of the silk running against my skin was ecstasy.

" 'Turn around," he whispered, and I did as he said. I could hear him walk away for a second, but he returned. 'Bend over on the bed and brace yourself with your arms,' he told me. I nearly protested, saying that I wanted to see his face, but I kept my mouth shut and did as he asked.

"At first, it didn't register in my mind what had just happened, but the pain caught up with me seconds later, and I tried to stand.

" 'No, no.' Lord Morgan said, shoving me back down to the bed. 'You stay _right _there.' The second lash was worse, and suddenly I was wide awake.

" 'It hurts!' I said, struggling against his hand pressing down on my back.

" 'That's the idea,' Lord Morgan mocked. 'Now, be a good little Pandyssian slave girl and take it.'

"So, I took it. Like a fool, I let him beat me, the belt leaving red welts against my skin. I screamed, and I cried, and he smiled, telling me that I was _perfect_. And then he said, 'Now, my Pandyssian bitch, get on your hands and knees so I can fuck you like the filthy dog you are.' "

I remember seeing the tears in my mother's eyes as she recounted the story.

"As soon as he was done, he gave me to his guards, naked and crying. They took me back to the mine and threw me out of the rail car, and as I rolled in the dirt and mud, I felt as though I was nothing but an animal. We are nothing but animals to them."

My mother. My beautiful, young mother, kind and gentle, had been used. It made me sick the first time she told me the story. She refused to tell me for a long time, but when the coughing started, and her hair fell out in clumps, she said that it was finally time for me to learn about my father.

"All I ever wanted was to die a free woman," my mother told me. And she did, having escaped from the mine with a small group of slaves when I was still growing in her womb. I never knew captivity, and for that I am thankful, but the streets of Dunwall are no less forgiving.

I am the first to strike, my blade swiping across the thug's wrist. He is distracted - too busy laughing - and he drops the pistol. I have always been quick. Here, if you're not strong, then you have to be fast. I dart for the pistol, gripping it in my hand, and without a moment's hesitation, I pull the trigger. An explosion of red and smoke comes from the thug's head, and I duck, letting my companions take over. The other two thugs have drawn their pistols, but once again, the blade strikes faster.

To my right, Kitty, slashes the thug's belly before going for his throat, managing to slice through most of the neck. To my left is Mace, whose saber has already made its way into the thug's side. He slashes again, aiming for the gut and then coming around to the liver. Both thugs wriggle on the ground, and we quickly grab the pistols from next to them, our hands scurrying over the thugs' bodies, checking pockets and hats and shoes.

"Hurry up," I hiss. "The others probably heard that gunshot." Once we are sure that we've taken all possible valuables, we turn, sprinting away down the alley.

* * *

The Rosethorne Mansion is located in the prestigious Estate District. Why do I mention it? Well, aristocrats are not the only ones to benefit from the plague. As the disease has cleared out nearly half of the Estate District, whole mansions sit completely abandoned. Some are locked tight and others filled with weepers, but it is as if the Rosethorne Mansion were made just for us.

Located in a shady area away from the other houses, we can easily sneak in and out without being seen. It has sewer access in the cellar, allowing us to travel to and from the house underground as well. All the food was left, so we cleared out the moldy and spoiled bits, keeping the cans and jars for ourselves. There are plenty of bedrooms for all twenty-five of us - though some have to share - and we've turned the place into our home. We wear the clothes left behind, which have been dirtied and eaten by rats over the past months. We had to clear a few weepers from the building, but so far it has been clean. As far as we know, there is no plague here.

I enter the building, greeting my other Bastards. Whenever one of us arrives home after having robbed someone, we take inventory. Inventory is never fun, but we must do it.

"Anya, Hector," I say, pointing to the two people closest to me. "Inventory." Mace, Bea, Kitty and I throw our pouches on a nearby table, letting Anya pour their contents onto the surface. The items _clang _and _clink_ as they hit the polished wood of the old, expensive table, which is now decorated with scratches.

"Three pistols, two bullets, thirty-two coin," lists Anya while Hector writes it into the book. "Looks like... a silver ring." We nod our heads in approval. "Two river krust pearls, one unknown brass key, a piece of jerky - I don't think it's beef, though... "

"You can keep that," I say.

"Thank you, ma'am," Anya chirps. "And one red flavor Mother's Cure bottle cap."

"It's _berry_ flavor, dumbass," says Hector.

"How do you know? You never even had a berry," Anya retorts.

"Shut up, you two, before you sound any more stupider," says Bea. "Ain't no such thing as a berry. They got different _kinds_ of berries, like blueberries and blackberries."

"Redberries?" asks Anya.

"No," Bea says, her face scrunching in contemplation. She snaps her fingers, pointing at Anya. "But there's raspberries. Those are red."

"Then _how_ come the flavor's just 'berry'?" Hector asks, crossing his arms.

I turn away, sighing, and leave them to have their conversation.

"Top three, meeting in my office," I say, and Bea holds up her hand saying that she'll be there in a minute. Kitty and Mace follow me.

Kitty Monroe is the bastard daughter of an unknown lord. She worked at the Golden Cat until she decapitated one of her clients by stabbing him repeatedly with a broken wine bottle. Needless to say, she couldn't work there anymore, and she ran, managing to get away through the V.I.P. entrance while the guards were distracted by the body.

She's one of our best. A ruthless cutthroat with no room for mercy.

"I lost my mercy with my virginity," she likes to say. One might think that she actually enjoys the kill. Maybe she does.

Then there is Mace, no last name. Another Pendleton bastard, though, his father's name was Treavor, he thinks.

"Like there's a difference," he says. "They're all the same." Mace isn't his real name. He won't tell us his real name, saying that it's something he wants to leave behind. All we really know about his past is that he grew up for some time with his mother, who was a servant before becoming pregnant and getting kicked out of Pendleton Manor. She became a servant for another lord. Lord Ashby, if I remember correctly. So, he grew up in the estate, and luckily, Lord Ashby actually took a liking to him. But then something happened between Mace and Ashby. Something to do with Mace's mother. Something that made him run from the manor, from Ashby, from his mother, to never return. He won't tell us what happened, but it was so bad that Mace despises the aristocracy now. He is probably the most vocal of us about his hatred for them, but most of us have never even met an aristocrat. We were only abandoned by them. Even worse, he was raised by one.

Beatrix Armstrong, "Bea" for short, bastard daughter of another unknown aristocrat, was born to a former whore turned thief. She's been robbing people since she was five.

"We'd have this routine, see," she says. "I walk up to someone cryin' n' tell 'em I can't find my momma, and then I lead them into an alley, sayin' I last saw her there. Then my momma jumps 'em. Easy n' quick." She's always talking shit, so it's difficult to tell sometimes whether or not she's telling the truth, but she always means well.

My top three Bastards are my best fighters. Mace is smart, Kitty's fast and tough, Bea is able to make quick decisions. If I am gone, Bea is the next in charge, followed by Mace. Kitty comes next, but Outsider _knows_ we don't want that to happen.

The leader of the Bastard Aristocrats is Valerie Star. Me. I know it's a strange name. My mother picked the last name since she liked to watch the stars when she was a slave at the mine. She says that they kept her going.

There aren't any stars in Dunwall. There's too much smog in the air.

It's hard for the Bastards to get taken seriously, since we're so young. All of us are in our early to mid teens, but we're not kids. Not at all. We're just as ruthless as the next thug. We're a gang, and crime is our business, and we've all killed more than once.

Unfortunately, since we're a new gang, nobody knows this, and we are routinely mocked. And that's only by the lesser gangs. The _real_ gangs, the ones at the top like the Bottle Street Gang and the Hatters, don't even know we exist. We've tried to get their attention, but so far we've failed.

"Maybe we can take on the river," Kitty says. "Get the Dead Eels' attention."

"Are you crazy?" I say. "The Eels don't deal with anyone else. They'll kill us before we can say a word to them. If we're gonna get noticed, I'd say our best bet is Bottle Street. Slackjaw's known to be pretty reasonable."

"Yeah, but you think he'll like the fact that some of us are girls?" Bea asks. "The Bottle Street Gang's full of smelly ogres."

"Well what should we do then?" says Mace. The three look to me.

"At the moment, we're twenty-five strong. We can always expand."

"Yeah, but we have to _do _something. Petty crime ain't gonna do us no good if we got too many. Plus to get noticed we gotta do somethin' big. Somethin' creative." Bea kicks her chair a few times, leaning on the armrest.

"Well, is there something that people want that we can get?" Mace asks.

"Elixir," I say shrugging. "But Bottle Street's got that bootleg stuff."

"What if we could get _real _elixir?" says Bea. We all turn to look at her.

"Real elixir?" I say. "And where are we getting that from?" Bea flashes me a smile, sitting up in her chair.

"Well - " I feel one of Bea's stories coming on. "I know this Lower Watch guard, right? We used to pull some stuff together back in the day, when we was 'round fifteen."

"You mean, last year?" I ask.

"Yeah," says Bea, gesturing toward me. "So, I saw him 'bout a month ago, and, you know, went to make sure that he hadn't been brainwashed or nothin' in Coldridge."

"Why was he in prison?" asks Mace.

"It... it was just somethin' small that we did. We made a mistake, though, n' he got caught. Well, I may have gotten him caught. I didn't mean to, though, but when I saw him I thought maybe I could tell him what happened. Well, turns out he's not even mad. I tried tellin' him I was sorry, but he said he would'a done the same thing!" She grins. "So, we get to talkin', right? He's tellin' me about the shortage of elixir in the Watch, but then he says to me, he says, 'There's a full boatload of it near Kaldwin's Bridge, but they won't give it to us because they can't decide how to divide it up between the navy, the army, and the Watch.' So, basically it's just sittin' there in the boat. No one's supposed to know, but he said he heard it from a friend who works as a servant for a general or admiral or whatever. I guess he overheard their conversation."

Mace and I make eye contact, Mace with a dubious look on his face.

"So, whad'ya think?" asks Bea. "Kitty?"

Kitty has been playing with her lighter since the meeting began, but she looks up at us now.

"We should do that," she says, bowing her head to play with her lighter again. I sigh.

"What else do you know, Bea? How many guards does the boat have? How big is it? How much elixir is in it? Which side of the river is it nearest to?"

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Bea says, holding her hand up. Her frizzy, blonde curls bounce in the sunlight. "I can get the info from my friend, but I'll probably have to pay him with somethin' I'd rather not pay him with, so we gotta decide if we're gonna do it or not."

"Which means we have to know whether or not this boat even actually exists," Mace says.

"It does. I promise you. It exists. He wouldn't lie to me." Bea leans forward in her chair. "So?"

I can already tell that Mace has a problem with the idea.

"Won't Slackjaw consider us competition if we do that? We're too small to have Bottle Street as our enemy."

"We can _sell_ it to Slackjaw. Let _him_ sell it to the public." Bea nods. "See? I can come up with good plans." Mace shakes his head and groans. He takes a deep breath.

"This elixir is in a _boat_, right? Which means it's on the _river_. Which means... "

We all fall silent.

"_Shit_," Kitty says, scowling. We stare at each other, bouncing back and forth between each others' gazes. Finally, Kitty speaks up.

"We can take 'em," Kitty says finally, and we stare at her, wide-eyed.

"The Eels?" I say. "You want us to take on the _Dead Eels_?"

"Shit, Kitty, even Bottle Street don't mess with them," says Bea.

"Bottle Street's full of fuckin' brutes. We're quick, we're quiet, and we're small. We use stealth."

"That's how the Eels do it too," I point out.

"We'll be better than them at it. Plus, they can't be stealthy if _we're_ the ones attackin' _them_."

Bea gives Mace a worried look.

"Look," Kitty says, leaning forward. "We take their boat, use it to attack the elixir ship, load all of it on the Eel's boat, and we'll be able to just sail right down the Wrenhaven. The Eels got papers so they can look legit."

"But it's the _Dead Eels_, Kitty," I say.

"Which means that when we fuckin' win, every gang in the city's gonna want to work with us. We'll be famous." She looks around. "Come on, you don't get to the top by doin' petty crime. We gotta do somethin' _big_. _This is big_."

"Okay," says Bea, shrugging. "I'm for it."

"Are you serious?" says Mace. "You realize this is Kitty who just thought of this plan. _Kitty_."

"Why can't _I _think up a plan?" Kitty snaps. "Sorry, I'm not as useless as you thought I was." Mace sighs.

"I didn't mean it like that. You can just be... reckless at times."

"Listen up, you little sheltered boy." Kittie stands, pointing her finger in Mace's face. "I been through a lotta shit, and I'm still alive. I probably shouldn't be, but I am, and I haven't survived this far by bein' dumb. Just because I'm not real smart like you, doesn't mean that I'm stupid enough to get us all killed. You all are my fuckin' family. I'm not gettin' _any _of us killed." Kitty stares Mace down before plopping back into her seat. Her silky hair slides out of its bun, half of the strands loosening and landing on her shoulder.

"You're the leader, Val. It's your call," Mace says, with his head bowed to the floor. "But I still say it's a bad idea, and I know you're not _planning_ on getting us killed, but I can't see this plan going well. In fact, I see it going really badly."

I am tense in my chair, looking between my three companions and then reaching up to scratch my head. I think I made my bun too tight, and I feel as though my scalp is being pulled off. I try to loosen it but only end up getting my fingers tangled in my dark curls. Pulling my hand from my hair, I force myself to relax and think.

Kitty's right. We _are_ family, but I'm the one who makes the decisions. I'm the one who decides what's best for the whole family. But what's best for the family? How am I supposed to know? I look up at the circle, my gaze stopping on each one of my other Bastards. These are _my_ Bastards. Mine.

"We'll do it," I say. "But we really have to plan this out. And _practice_ it, too. We can't have anything go wrong. And we need pistols. One for each of us."


	2. Part II: The Bastards and the Eels

**Part II: The Bastards and the Eels  
**

_[...]A gentleman wears a blouse of either silk or pure cotton, for lesser fabrics should not touch his skin. For that to happen would simply be an insult to him and his own. The blouse can be buttoned up in the middle or tightened by strings, depending on its style. His blouse should, of course, be on top of his corset. Though not as constricting as those for ladies, men must keep their shape as well. The corset starts below the chest and fastens in the back. _

_ His blouse shall be tucked into his breeches, once again, made of a fine, thick fabric. The breeches will be custom-made to fit the gentleman and his unique pelvis and thigh shape. _

_ Optional, though highly recommended, is the vest. The vest must be of appropriate color to match the breeches and blouse. Usually, a darker color is preferred. The vest will have two to three buttons, or during the winter will be of a thicker material - wool or angora is very popular for this - and have no buttons. _

_ Next is the jacket, which must also be custom-made, for to wear a ready-made jacket is to announce to the world "I am a fool!" The jacket may be worn buttoned or unbuttoned, the current fashion requiring it to be open, and it is essential to have one object of decoration upon the jacket's breast. Usually, a gentleman carries a neatly-folded silk handkerchief, but others prefer a broach or even a flower, though the style is outdated._

_ His hair will be neatly parted on the left, the strands flattened with wax or grease of a pleasant scent, and the back shall be cut close to the head, while the front shall be longer. A gentleman has not one stray hair on his head, so the slicking of the hair is most important. Many ladies say that the first quality they notice on a gentleman is his hair. If it is messy, then the gentleman, if you can even call him that, is assumed to be "messy" as well._

_[...]_

_Ladies will wear their hair up, either in a twist or a bun. Some of the newer styles feature something called the "Serkonan Knot" though the term is becoming obsolete, "Hat Knot" being the term most preferred. Ringlets are not obligatory, but they are much admired on young ladies. Older women should wear their hair in a more sensible fashion, as ringlets represent youth and innocence. A small comb can add a nice touch to an otherwise plain head. Some bold young ladies will wear a flower in their Hat Knot, a trend that has spread among the youth. They do it in the hopes that a gentleman plucks the flower from her hair and gives it to her as a gift, and "flower picking" has become a popular way for young ladies and gentlemen to begin courting each other._

_ Upon the unfortunate chance that a lady has hair too short to put into a bun or twist, lightly curling the hair close to the head is acceptable - _

"What are you doing?" I walk into the room to find several Bastards gathered by the fireplace.

"It's story time," says Kay, one of the girls. The Bastards laugh.

"Pretty boring story," I say.

"Not how I read it," Kay says, mimicking an aristocrat by sitting up straight in her chair and clearing her throat. The upper class accent, common among the aristocracy, shapes Kay's words as she reads from _A Book for Gentlemen and Ladies_ by Lord Samward Huntington.

"_A proper lady, must then bow to her gentleman (curtsying, though fashionable in the past, is now reserved for servants and maids.) When she speaks, she must lift the palette of the mouth, allowing her words to sound open and rich. However, rich does not mean loud. A proper lady speaks no louder than a toned whisper _- I guess they forgot about that one," Kay says, dropping the accent.

"Okay, you Bastards," I say. "Enough play. We need to go practice our plan and do some combat training." They groan.

"Oh, come on," says one of the male Bastards. "You're no fun, Val. Don't be a spoilsport." The others chime in, agreeing with him.

This is a problem I face every day. If we are to be a gang, and I am to be its leader, I should be able to give orders with no complaints from my Bastards, but sometimes it feels as though we're in a club or even a school. Gang leaders are supposed to be feared, aren't they? Feared and respected. I am neither, and I can feel my frustration growing.

"Hey!" I snap. The Bastards fall silent. "I think you all need a reminder of where you are, who you are, and what you're supposed to be doing. This is a gang. A _gang_. We are criminals, not whiny little children. Think of Slackjaw, think of the Geezer, think of _Lizzy Stride,_ who we might be facing in a week or so. Do you think that any of them would put up with you all? Do you really think that Lizzy Stride stands by while her Eels complain and ignore her? No. You act that way around Lizzy Stride, and she'll take a fucking finger from each one of you. Am I going to have to be like that? I don't want to. I would rather that you all respected me as your leader, instead of making me punish you repeatedly until you learn. This is your _only _warning: Anyone who crosses me again loses an ear. No exceptions, no excuses. I am your leader. I am your _boss_. And I would ask that you all treat me that way. Sure, we can joke around occasionally, but when it's time to work, it's time to _work_. Now, all of you, get outside and make sure you pass this warning on to your fellow Bastards."

I stand by as the Bastards shuffle from the room in silence, most of their heads down. Kitty stands just outside the door and catches my eye. She nods.

"Good job, boss. I've been waitin' for you to do that."

"Yeah, well it needed to be done," I say, sighing. "But you and the other top threes can still call me 'Val'. You've earned it, helping me run this group." Kitty raises an eyebrow.

"You sure you should include me in that? I don't help run the group. I just stab people."

"Good enough," I say, patting her on the back.

* * *

Outside, Mace and Bea distribute pistols that we have managed to collect.

"Okay, we don't have too many bullets for these," I announce. "So, aim carefully. We'll take turns. You get three turns with one shot each. Got it?" The others mumble incoherently. _This_ is my gang. "What you should be saying to me is 'yes, ma'am'."

"Yes, ma'am," they say nowhere near in unison, some shouting and others still mumbling.

What the fuck are we doing? I scan the yard, realizing for the first time that we are nowhere close to being ready to join the ranks of the big gangs. But everything has been put into play. The guards have been bribed, the pistols collected. We've been practicing our plan for the past few weeks. We have to go through with it. Suddenly, my head hurts.

"Okay," I say. "We have four targets. Get in line."

Though most of us know how to use pistols, we prefer the blade, and shooting a pistol seems awkward and clumsy compared to the clean slices of the saber.

"What about the noise?" Mace says, appearing to my right.

"We'll be fine," I say. "Nobody comes over here. Too many weepers. People will probably just think we're trying to kill them off."

We have to keep the first floor windows of the mansion boarded up to keep the weepers out. The tall, iron fence around the property usually does the job, but occasionally a weeper will find its way into the yard. Luckily, they're not too difficult to kill.

As we watch the others practice, Mace and I jump at nearly every gunshot.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," I say. Mace chuckles.

"Does anyone?"

* * *

It is time.

We move as the sun falls.

Kaldwin's Bridge is a colossal metal structure spanning across the wide Wrenhaven River. As I look up at it, I feel like a little rat. All of us are little rats, scurrying about as we try to survive.

We've managed to bribe a guard to leave the doors to a few nearby buildings unlocked so that we are not seen out in the open. The rest of us crouch along the stone wall lining the river. We must do this in complete silence, so I gave the group their briefing before they left.

"Remember to check for Eel scouts," I said. "They have hidden outposts along the river so they can monitor it. The only people they should be spotting are the _swimmers_."

The swimmers are five Bastards whose job is to swim to the elixir-filled boat, silently kill the guards, and drive the boat down the river.

"We should be there by the time the Eels see you," I told them. "So, when you see their ship, stop the boat and hide behind the boxes."

I spot the elixir boat nearby, the name Katherina written on its side, and it is time for the swimmers to go. The rest of us head downriver toward the Eel's headquarters at the Drapers Ward Riverfront.

I have several of us watching for outposts. If our plan is to work, then we cannot be spotted.

Soon enough, the boat's engine roars to life, thick, black smoke coming from the top and rising into the already smoggy air. I feel my breath catch in my throat, and I will myself to breathe normally, but the butterflies in my stomach will not go away.

Mace and Bea are on the other side of the river, while Kitty and I lead two groups, one in front and one behind. I can hear our light footsteps on the cobblestone ground and wonder if I should have had us take off our shoes. It is too late now.

The Katherina makes its way down the river, and we wait. We move with the boat making sure to stay in front of it as it approaches. The Eels have not met us yet, and we are halfway to the Riverfront. If we make it to the Riverfront, our plan is to wait just outside, since actually entering it would be suicide.

But soon I hear another engine approach, and sure enough, the Dead Eels' ship, the Undine, comes into view.

_ Is Lizzy Stride on that ship?_ I wonder. The woman is legendary, and she is not seen often. Very few who have seen her have escaped alive.

With teeth filed into points and webbed toes, Lizzy walks the deck barefoot and proud. She is unpredictable. Some say she takes pleasure in killing, drinking the blood of her enemies. Others say she has special powers - gills on her sides, allowing her to breathe underwater. She passes this on to all her Eels, and they can swim up to ships without being spotted.

The Undine chugs its way toward the Katherina, which has cut its engine and now floats stationary along the river.

_ This is it._

The Undine approaches, and I can see figures on board. Around five. I motion for my section to go, and we make our way into the river.

Our hope is that the boat engine will drown out any noise we make in the water. This is supposed to be a method used by the Eels themselves, but they are silent. We are not.

Luckily, two of the Eels are busy arguing among themselves, and our small splashes are drowned out by the engine.

"It's a fuckin' Watch boat," I hear one of the Eels say.

"No, it ain't. It would'a signaled to us by now, and look at it. It don't look like no River Patrol."

The Eels carry their boathooks, turning toward the Katherina as the boats meet.

"Come on," says a burly male Eel, waving the rest of them over. "You two, stay on the Undine." He points at two of the Eels, and they stay as the others board the Katherina.

We are close to the ships now, our heads bobbing above the surface of the water under the cover of darkness. I start forward, and we start to climb the side of the ships.

I honestly expected there to be more Eels, but I will be relieved if this job turns out to be easy. Sure, we won't be famous, but we'll have our elixir, and the Eels won't know who killed their men and women.

The Eels on the Katherina study the shipping crates, attempting to pry one open.

"Help me with this, would ya, Mac?" says a female Eel. A few of the other Eels scan the area, but we are below them. I can see the first of us entering the ship.

The Undine is the easy part, and my Bastards are able to sneak up on the two Eels easily, stabbing them through the necks.

"Who the fuck are you all?"

The Eels have found the swimmers, and they emerge from the boxes with their hands up.

"Hey, man, we were just curious to see what was on here," one of the Bastards says. "We didn't even know anybody else was gonna be here."

"Are you kids stupid?" says the lead Eel. "The river belongs to the Eels."

"Um, sorry?" says the Bastard. "We'll go steal stuff somewhere else. We didn't know."

The Eels laugh.

"You been livin' underground or somethin'?" says the burly man.

"We're from Potterstead," the Bastard lies. "Came here right before the plague. We thought there might be jobs here in Dunwall. Turns out there wasn't."

The burly man holds up his boathook.

"Well, you all made a fatal mistake," he says. "The Dead Eels take no prisoners, and we don't leave stragglers."

My Bastard uses her acting skills.

"No, please," she says, trying to look scared. "We're only kids. We won't come back, we promise."

"Nope," says the burly man, holding up his boathook. "Eel policy. You understand." He laughs, and the others snicker behind him.

The first Bastard springs, his saber catching the female Eel's neck.

"Wha- " I hear her say. The Eels turn, and already another group of Bastards have made their way onto the Katherina.

"What is this?" says the burly man, but the Bastards attack.

It is boathook versus saber, and the saber is faster and sharper. I wait on the edge of the ship, watching my Bastards slice and slash through limbs and torsos. One Bastard gets hit with a boathook on the side of the head, falling to the ground, but another takes over, going for the Eel's throat.

I find that I can breathe again. We're going to win this.

Soon, there is only one Eel left.

"You little bastards," she hisses.

"That's right," I hear. Kitty has come on board, and she raises her saber, cutting right through the Eel's neck. Her body drops as her head rolls to the side, and I see Kitty grin. She sticks the point of her saber through the Eel's head and holds her arm up high. The curve of the saber makes the head tilt to the side, but the message is strong enough.

"Victory!" she yells, beckoning the others to yell with her. The rest of us, still in the water, climb onboard to join the others. I approach Kitty. "What did I tell you? Huh?" she says, smiling. She spots Mace and strides up to him. "I told you I could think up a plan for us!" She puts her finger in his face, and he knocks it away, nodding. He doesn't smile but nods in approval.

"I guess you did."

Bea has made her way over to the boxes and tries to pry one open. Still, it won't budge.

"A little help?" she says, and I hurry over to her, but in the darkness I detect movement, and I feel my heart sink.

It was nothing. Just a hagfish.

There is more movement underneath the water, and I abandon Bea, heading to the edge of the ship.

"Hey!" Bea says, but I wave her away.

Are we all here? I scan the boat. I'm pretty sure we're all on the boat, but as I look closer at the water more and more ripples run along its surface. I try to get a closer look, leaning over the ship's side.

The bottle comes from behind me, shattering on the deck, and we all fall silent and turn toward the sound as green vapor explodes from it. More bottles shatter around us, and I feel my skin burn. I bend over, falling into a coughing fit. I can hear coughing and strangled yelling around me, but my eyes burn and water, blinding me.

I kneel on the floor, trying to get away from the green cloud that eats my skin.

"Bea!" I yell between coughs. My lungs and throat burn, and I rub my eyes with the inside of my blouse. I am completely disoriented, feeling around for another one of my companions, but I am still near the edge of the ship, and I feel my way around. The cloud starts to dissipate around the edges, and I find that the air is no longer opaque, but still my eyes water and sting. I force myself to open them, trying to ignore the pain.

I can see the water from where I stand.

They rise like sea monsters, slithering from the water, completely silent. I watch as their heads creep from the river, hardly disturbing the water around them. The heads continue to appear, and I realize our deadly mistake.

The Eels and the Bastards had the exact same plan, but only one side fell for it in the end. They've probably been watching us since we arrived. We should've known that it wouldn't be that easy. _I_ should've known.

The Dead Eels have made it on board, now. We have more people, but already I can see many of my fellow Bastards on the ground, many with their torsos torn open. The Eels move quickly while we are still disoriented and burning, and I reach for my pistol and saber, but before I can, I feel something grab my arm.

"No!" I say, swinging my arm around.

"Dammit, Val, come on." It is Bea. She pulls my arm, and I follow her to the storage area, where we weave through the boxes. I want to know where we are going, but the words stick in my throat.

They're dying. All of them are dying.

We are thoroughly hidden by the boxes now, and I watch as Bea opens a hatch in the ground. She grabs my arm again, and I obediently climb down the ladder onto the lower deck. Bea is still at the opening, and I call to her.

"Bea?" My eyes still water, so I cannot clearly see what she is doing.

"Just... a minute," she says, her voice straining. She is dragging something. A box. She must be trying to hide the door. I hear her groan as she attempts to hold the door open, now half-covered by a crate. Bea drops something, and I hear it clatter on the ground, then move in to investigate. It is a boathook.

The door slams shut above me, and Bea descends, nearly slipping on one of the last rungs. She pants.

"Okay," she says. "I... tried to... cover the door... with the box..." She points upward. "As much as I... could."

But it is just Bea and me.

"Bea," I whisper. "Everyone else... "

Bea gives me a look that I have never before seen on her face. It is horror and guilt, rage and despair. She shakes her head, turning toward one of the corners and sitting on the ground.

I look up at the door separating us from the Dead Eels above. Most of the noise has died down, but I can hear footsteps above us as the wood creaks and cracks. There are voices.

I am curious, but I do not want to put us in danger. I sit by Bea.

"I guess we'll wait," I say. My voice sounds foreign to my ears. I am the leader. Leaders don't abandon their people. I take a deep breath, standing and turning to Bea. She looks up at me. "Bea..." I hesitate, and my body shakes. Am I really going to do this? "Thank you for saving me, but... I have to go back up there." My eyes are still irritated, but I can see mostly clearly now, and my skin tingles. "I know you just moved the box and everything - "

"Go," she says. "I get it." I look at Bea for another moment; I can hardly see her in the darkness.

I have to push the door hard to get it to open, but I raise it slowly letting the crate slide down the incline before slipping through. I crawl through the maze of boxes toward the voices.

"You checked everywhere?" I hear.

"Yeah, we got 'em all," says a male voice.

"Hey, you two get that crate open, yet?" It's the first voice again.

"No," I hear. "It's stuck tight."

"Yates, Fisher, go help them."

"Boss, we saved one like you wanted," I hear a male voice say.

"You talk to her yet?"

"No, not yet. Thought you might wanna do it."

The first voice laughs. "You know me too well, Edgar." I can hear footsteps as the two leave, but the others are still trying to open the box.

"Hey, hey, stop. What's this?" I hear. "Some sort of trigger?" I try to peek around the box to see, but I can't get a good angle. I consider going back down, but the Eels still have one of us. I don't know what I can do, but I can't leave her alone.

I am silent as I sneak past the Eels who are busy examining the box. Already the bodies are gone, and I imagine them bobbing in the river, but the blood and guts scattered along the deck still serve as evidence of the massacre.

The other two Eels went upstairs to the cabin, so I climb, peeking through the window on the door.

My breath catches as I view the scene.

Kay is tied by her torso to a wooden chair, bruised and beaten, her face disfigured.

_ Outsider's Eyes, they cut off her nose._

It is a mess of fat, blood, and cartilage, and Kay leans forward, mouth hanging open. I can see gaps in her teeth. She groans, pink drool coming from her mouth. With all the blood I have seen throughout my life, I have always been perfectly fine with it, but saliva... I grimace, nearly gagging.

"So, what would you like to lose next, hm?" A woman, her head half-shaved and surrounded by a thick headband, stands in front of her. "An eye? Your tongue?" She laughs. "What about these little fingers of yours?" The woman grabs Kay's arm, putting three of her fingers into her mouth. Kay groans.

"Speak up," says a male Eel. Edgar.

"Juss kill... me," Kay breathes.

"Don't worry," says the woman. "We will. But first, you're going to tell us where you all came from. You're a gang, right? Are there more of you? Where are you based? And what the fuck are you wearing?" The woman pulls at Kay's jacket, and she and Edgar laugh.

"Doesn't... matter... now..." says Kay. "All... dead."

"See, you say that, but I'd like to check out things for myself if you don't mind." The woman plays with Kay's fingers in her dirty hands.

_ She's not wearing shoes._

Indeed. The woman is barefoot, and though her toes are not webbed, as the stories say, I realize who I gaze upon.

The legendary Lizzy Stride, known and feared for her ruthlessness and unpredictability stands before my Kay.

"Estate... District...Raleigh Mansion," says Kay.

_ Good girl,_ I think. The Raleigh Mansion is full of weepers.

"The Estate District. Fancy." Lizzy turns to Edgar. "Did you write that down?"

"Of course, Lizzy. I ain't stupid," he says. "I know how to do my job."

"Of course you do," Lizzy says, giving him a warning stare. Edgar rubs the back of his bald head.

"So, you want me to kill her now?" he asks.

Lizzy holds Kay's hand up to her face. "Well, I think I got myself a little too excited about the prospect of biting each of these little fingers off, so, before you do that..."

Kay screams as Lizzy bites into her pointer finger. She pulls at it with her teeth, grinding through the bones and tendons. It comes loose, and Lizzy spits it from her mouth.

"Edgar, go pick that up," she says. She turns back to Kay, who is crying. "Nine more," she taunts. "I'm gonna make a whole necklace out of these." Lizzy grins, and I can see her teeth now, each one filed to a pointed tip. The maniacal expression on her face combined with the blood that runs from her mouth and dribbles from her chin makes her look like some monster in a children's story. But this is no children's tale.

I watch. I stay and watch Lizzy bite every finger from Kay's hands, and when she is finished, she laughs. Kay is barely conscious.

"Edgar, get rid of her. I'm curious to know what's in those boxes." Lizzy heads to the door, and I duck, looking for a place to hide. The entire cabin has a ledge around it, so I carefully make my way to the side, scooting my feet inch by inch.

The door opens, and I watch as Lizzy descends the stairs.

"So, what do we got?" I hear.

Before I can move, Edgar comes from the cabin, a cloth bag over his shoulder. Whatever is inside of it looks heavy, but as the blood drips from the fabric, I know exactly what it is. I hope he killed her fast. I watch from the ledge as Edgar takes the sack downstairs, whistling as he goes.

"Gonna go for a little swim," I hear him say, and he drops the bag onto the deck. I hear it grunt.

_ No... no..._

Kay squirms in the sack, and Edgar continues to whistle, putting the bag on the edge. He steps back and puts his foot to it, pushing the sack until it drops into the river.

Edgar sighs and heads toward the storage area.

My body doesn't want to move. I listen to myself breathe, attempting to hold in what wants to come bursting out. We're not out of this yet. I can't break down just yet.

In the storage area, Lizzy and the other Eels stand around the open crate.

"Really?" says Edgar. He picks up a bottle filled with reddish liquid. "'Mother's Cure, Energizing Berry Drink'. They got themselves killed for _this_ shit?"

"Maybe they're just really tired all the time," says an Eel.

"Well," Lizzy says, kicking the crate. "I guess we'll just burn all of this. Unless you all want it?" The others laugh.

"No thanks," says one of the Eels. "The stuff tastes horrible, and it's addictive too. They put some kind of Pandyssian drug in it."

"Hey, boss, didn't Black Sally's gang used to sell this shit?" Edgar asks.

"Yeah, they did," Lizzy says. "I don't know who sells it now, though. Probably nobody. This shit's just lying around all over the place, but you know what? Let's take it with us. We can probably make a few coin selling it to the addicts." She looks around. "That means get to work!" She claps.

"We found this, too, boss," says an Eel. "Looks like someone rigged the crate with a trigger meant to set off a flare gun."

"I was the one who spotted it," says a second Eel with a smile.

"Great," Lizzy says flatly. "So, what did you find?" The Eel hands a note to Lizzy, and she unfolds it, scanning it quickly before grinning. "Aw, these kids were going to have a horrible day, even if we hadn't shown up. Listen to this:

"_Surprise! If you're reading this, you should be minutes from getting arrested. That's what you get, you fucking bitch. You left me in that warehouse, getting me arrested, and I know you did it on purpose. You think I actually believe that you were scared and ran? Since when have you ever run? In case you want to know, Coldridge is just as bad as they say it is. A cramped cell with stone floors. Moldy food, and the guards like to spit in it, too. They don't empty your chamber pot until it's overflowing, and they make you do it. I hope you enjoy your time there, Bea, and thanks for that last blowjob. I know it wasn't pleasant for you._

_Your friend, Mitch"_

The others laugh, and I feel my body go cold. All of my Bastards are dead. Already, I picture myself slicing that little Lower Watch weasel Mitch into pieces.

The Eels start to load the crates onto the Undine, and I hide upstairs, watching them go back and forth, while Lizzy works on making a necklace out of Kay's fingers.

Finally, they load the last crate, and the Eels come back with soaked rags and lighters. They light the rags, throwing them onto the ship's deck and return to the Undine. It roars to life, chugging away as the Katherina lights up the night.

I run for the storage area, but Bea has already left the lower deck.

"Come on," I say, and we jump from the boat, swimming to the shore and then running straight home in silence.


	3. Part III: The Aristocrat

Well, this is a chapter. Yup. I feel like I'm not doing my best on these, so I apologize. This chapter is mostly dialogue. The way I write conversations is to start them and see where they go no matter how ridiculous they get (remember, the Bastards are still young). Sorry.

Also, Bea is pronounced "bee" in case you cared.

* * *

**Part III: The Aristocrat**

* * *

**2 months later**

"So? How do I look?"

I examine myself in the tall, dusty mirror. I am still dressed in the familiar Bastard Aristocratic style, but my shirt and breeches are clean, my hose undamaged, my shoes shiny. At least my shirt isn't tucked in.

I tried to do my hair the best I could, but my curls are rarely obedient, and already a few locks of hair have fallen from my bun.

Bea stands behind me, clean as well, and looks me up and down.

"Well, at least your shirt's not tucked in." She laughs. "Or else you might look like the real deal."

I tried to fit the clothes as best as I could, not wanting to look completely foolish. I think I succeeded... I think. Bea heads toward the door.

"Let's see if the others are downstairs - that is if your finished lookin' at yourself in the mirror."

* * *

"Look!" The others wait by the front door, but Kitty suddenly runs outside. As we follow her, I catch a glimpse of a large, black mass. As I near it, I realize what it is. Bea is already circling the railcar, running her hands over the exterior and studying any writing she can find. Kitty and I run to join her while Mace stays behind. I look back at him, but he says nothing and crosses his arms, looking away.

Once we are done examining it, we enter the railcar, which starts to move as soon as the door closes.

"These seats are velvet!" exclaims Bea. She jumps from seat to seat, rubbing each one.

"And look at how fast we're going," says Kitty, pointing to the window. The houses pass us quickly, and as I look through the small window I can see the populated part of the Estate District. The lawns are perfectly manicured, and most homes are surrounded by gardens with flowers of all colors. Adding to the sights are the tallboys and City Watch Officers patrolling the streets. I watch as the tallboys shoot a couple of weepers attempting to cross a bridge.

"Whoa," says Bea. "I mean I hate those things, but look at that! Those are the weapons we should be usin'."

"I don't think aristocrats set people on fire," I reply.

"Well, we could be the Fire Bastard Aristocrats or the Firecrat Bastards," Bea says. I look at her, and we laugh at the ridiculous names.

The railcar makes a turn, its wheels bumping and squeaking at the intersection, and we travel to the side of the house. Through the window, I can see the old brick of the mansion, which is covered in ivy. The houses here are supposed to be very old, and its residents are given tax breaks for maintaining them. I think of the Rosethorne Mansion, which is dirty and crumbling and secretly find myself excited to go inside the Lancasters' home.

I wonder if Kitty and Bea feel the same way I do? Are they excited too? Will they be amazed by all the treasures inside? If they are, they don't show it just as I do not show my elation. Are we ashamed? Possibly. Probably.

"I feel like a whore," says Mace. We all turn to look at him as the car bounces at another intersection.

"What do you mean?" I ask. Mace has been silent for the whole car ride.

"I mean that we are being paid to do a job by one of the people our gang was founded on hating. Gangs don't get paid by aristocrats. Whores do."

"Gangs get paid to do jobs by aristocrats all the time, Mace," says Bea. "Just not out in the open. You'd be surprised how many aristocrats want somethin' stolen or someone sent a message. Or dead, if the gang does that sort of thing. It's cheaper than hirin' a real assassin, and it gets the job done." She shakes her head. "Sometimes I forget that you don't know 'bout these things."

"I've fucked plenty of aristocrats," says Kitty. "You'd think I'd know when I was whorin' myself out. You don't see me bein' whiny about this. It's a job. If we really hate it, then we just leave."

Mace sighs, crossing his arms and leaning back against his seat.

"We all have to be together in this," I say. "Mace, please be nice. We need this."

"Yeah, yeah," he says flatly. "For the Bastard Aristocrats, I'll be the best whore ever."

The railcar screeches to a stop, and I feel my heart flutter. I've never met an aristocrat, and neither has Bea, but Kitty and Mace have done more than just meet them. Both would probably say that they spent too much time with them.

"If you don't know what to say, just smile and nod," I tell my companions.

A servant opens the door for us, and we exit the car one by one. We seem to be behind the house.

"This way," says the servant, and we follow him. He opens a door for us, beckoning us to go inside.

"This is the back door," says Mace. "Why are we entering through the back door? We're guests." The servant clears his throat.

"I am sorry, but this is what Lord Lancaster told me to do. He said that you must enter through the back door."

"But, we're guests," Mace says more forcefully.

"This is what I was told to do," the servant repeats. Mace looks to me.

"Were we allowed to bring knives with us? 'Cause I brought my knife with me, and now I wanna use it on - what's your name?"

"Jenkins."

"- Jenkins here."

"He's just doing his job," I say.

"Yeah, and I'm doin' mine." Kitty reaches for her pocket.

"Just go inside," Mace says. "And you all were worrying about _me_ spoiling this. If Kitty gets through the night without stabbing someone, I'll eat my shoe."

"_Both_ shoes," says Kitty.

"Fine, both shoes." They shake on it.

My eyes land on Jenkins who is still holding the door open as he watches our display.

"Go inside," I say, trying to play my part. "I don't wanna have to cut off any ears tonight."

"You're still doin' that?" Kitty says, but I push her inside, and the rest follow.

We find ourselves in the kitchen, and we watch as chefs, sous chefs, and servants walk back and forth and between each other, somehow managing to navigate without running into one another. A cacophony of voices, clanking dishes, and sizzling pans fills the room, and I inhale the rich scent of expensive food.

"At least we're gonna eat good," Bea says into my ear.

We follow Jenkins out of the kitchen and through the dining room, stopping in the foyer. I find that I am almost afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking it. Bea and Kitty do not seem to have the same problem.

"Look at this," Bea says, climbing the first two stairs of the master staircase. "A velvet staircase?" She holds her arms out on either side of her body. "I can't even touch both railings."

I look upward at the chandelier above my head. It glitters, crystals hanging from its base. The floor I walk upon is made of marble, and the walls have a patterned wallpaper that seems to almost mesmerize me.

"What's this?" Kitty says, holding up a gold statue in the corner.

"Please do not _touch_ anything," Jenkins says, snatching the statuette from her hands. "We are supposed to go to the parlor, so please keep following me _without _stopping this time."

As we turn to leave the room, I look to the stairs, and we are approached by a petite blonde woman with a round, rosy face. Her hair is pulled up into a Hat Knot, and she wears an outfit of lavender silk and mint. She looks to Jenkins and then to us, her mouth slightly ajar, as though in a daze. She quickly snaps out of it, putting on a smile.

"Why hello, honored guests," she says, bowing slightly. "I am the Lady of the Lancaster Estate. You may call me Lady Lancaster."

"Obviously," I hear Bea mumble behind me.

I study the woman as she stands before us. Everything about her seems to be soft - her face, her clothes, her hair - even her eyes are soft, though I detect something hidden away as well. Lady Lancaster inhales.

"Please wait here in the foyer. I must quickly speak with my husband. Jenkins?" She turns to the servant. "Watch them for me - I mean, please entertain them while they wait."

"Of course, madam," Jenkins says, bowing.

Lady Lancaster turns, striding to the parlor, her tiny waist moving side to side as she walks.

I look to Bea, who looks to Mace, who looks to Kitty, who looks back to me, and we follow Lady Lancaster.

Jenkins clears his throat.

"The Lady said to - "

"Jenkins," warns Kitty. "Remember that knife I was talkin' about?" Jenkins's face turns pale, and he stays silent as we make our way to the corridor.

Luckily, we know how to move quietly, and we find the parlor, stopping just outside the open doorway.

"You invited them into our _home_?" I hear Lady Lancaster hiss.

"Calm down, Maddie. It's not like I just let them in through the front door."

Lady Lancaster strides to the door and peeks around the corner, nearly spotting us. She turns back to her husband.

"_They've probably already stolen from us_," she whispers.

"And if they have, I doubt we'll miss whatever it is."

"After this, you meet them somewhere else, Garrett. Go to wherever filth hole they live in."

"That _filth hole _is the Rosethorne Mansion, I believe, but Maddie, dear, that's _hardly_ civilized. We must set an example. I am doing business with these people, and I will show them the same hospitality that I show all of my business partners. Now, I would appreciate it if you would please join us for dinner and be my beautiful, charming wife."

"Of course. Always." Lady Lancaster says curtly. "But I shall need a drink."

Lord Lancaster turns and picks up a bell, ringing it by shaking it back and forth.

"Oh, Jenkins," he says. "Please, lead our guests to the parlor."

Jenkins appears in the hallway, and we wait until he has approached the door. He stands off to the side with his hand out.

"Ladies, gentleman."

"Please, come in," says Lord Lancaster. He beams, his tanish-brown hair shining in the light. Lord Lancaster approaches us each. "Please excuse me, but I am afraid I do not know your names. Who is this lovely young lady with the golden curls?" He turns to Bea, holding out his hands.

"Name's Beatrix," she says in her squeaky voice. "Everyone calls me 'Bea'."

"Bea," repeats Lord Lancaster. He pushes his hand toward her, and Bea looks to us. I shrug and look to my left. Mace gestures, putting his hand out in front of him, and Bea mimics him, her face still looking unsure. Lord Lancaster lightly takes her hand, putting it to his lips.

"Whoa, whoa, we just met!" Bea says, snatching her hand back. Lord Lancaster's eyes widen, and he steps back with a puzzled look on his face. A nervous laugh escapes from his mouth.

"She's joking," says Mace, putting on a smile. "Bea, uh, she's always joking... All the time."

"Ah," says Lord Lancaster, turning to me next, but not before momentarily flashing a look of disgust.

"An exotic beauty!" he exclaims, a smile stuck back onto his face. "You are Serkonan, yes?"

"Yeah, yes. I'm Serkonan," I lie. "From Serkonos."

"Where in Serkonos?" he asks. "I have a vacation home out in Karnaca."

"Around there," I say. I don't know any cities in Serkonos.

"Well! If we are ever there at the same time, you are always welcome to visit. I play a mean game of cricket, you know." I have no idea what cricket is, and I picture us all sitting around a table playing a board game or cards.

I smile and nod. Lady Lancaster chuckles.

"Do not mind Maddie," he says, rolling his eyes. "Her cricket skills are... in need of much improvement."

We all smile and nod.

"Well, Garrett," Maddie says. "At least the others don't let me win just to... how do I put this politely? Kiss my ass."

"Maddie!" Lord Lancaster turns back to us. "I apologize. My wife can get quite carried away at certain times. Of the month."

"Excuse me?" Maddie's face turns red. My companions and I turn to look at each other briefly before settling our attention on the Lancasters once again. "Garrett, you are _one_ step away from getting a drink splashed in your face. How _dare_ you!" She turns away from him, huffing and crossing her arms.

"Fine, Maddie," says Lord Lancaster. "If you wish to act like a child in front of our guests - " I see Maddie's grip tighten on her glass. "- Then I shall have to treat you like one and ignore you while you act out." He turns back to us. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, our Serkonan beauty." His gaze settles on me. "You know, some Gristians can be quite rude to those of foreign blood, but I will let you know now that I am not one of those people. Any Serkonan is as good as a Gristian." I smile and nod. "And I love your foods and dances. You know, the one where the women shake their hips? It's delightfully sinful. Maddie's danced it before - quite well, actually." He looks back at his wife, who turns away from him. "Serkonan culture is just marvelous. I do hope that you will tell us more as we dine."

"Of course," I say, nodding. Maybe I shouldn't have lied about my heritage, but I do not know how he will act upon learning I am of Pandyssian descent. Pandyssians are rare, feared, and hated in Dunwall.

Lord Lancaster holds out his hands, and I hold mine out, letting Garrett kiss it. I try not to grimace. Lord Lancaster turns to Mace.

"Ah, a gentleman!" I wipe the back of my hand on my jacket. "A very _young_ gentleman. Your name?"

"Mace."

"Mace, what kind of name is that? I've never heard it."

"You have never heard of Mace Brimsley?" Mace says.

"Ah, yes," Garrett says. " Mace Brimsley. I am afraid I do not know the Brimsleys too well, but there is plenty of gossip about them. I can fill you all in after dinner."

We are going to be here forever.

"And how do you know Mace Brimsley, young Mace?" Garrett asks, briefly chuckling.

"I was... " Mace hesitates, thinking of a lie. "I was a servant for a short while. In the Brimsleys' home."

"Splendid!" says Garrett. "And how old are you? You look quite young."

"Seventeen," Mace says politely, though I can tell he is irked.

"Oh!" Lord Lancaster says. "My apologies. You are _quite_ small."

"Yes, I've always said that I want grow up when I grow up." Lord Lancaster laughs at Mace's half-assed joke.

"Did you hear that, dear?" Maddie nods from behind Lord Lancaster.

"Yes, quite funny, dear."

"Well, not-so-young gentleman," he firmly shakes Mace's hand. "It is very nice to meet you."

"You too," Mace replies politely. Lord Lancaster moves on to Kitty.

"And you, dear? What is your name?"

"Kitty," she purrs. "Kitty Monroe." I have never heard Kitty speak this way, and I wonder if this is how she spoke to the aristocrats at the Cat.

"_Kit-ty_," says Lord Lancaster. "That name sounds familiar to me."

"I used to work at the Golden Cat. Maybe we've met."

Lord Lancaster blushes, and Maddie turns to her husband.

"I should _hope_ not," she says.

"Maddie, do not be naive. Though I don't announce it every time, you _know_ I will occasionally visit the Cat." He looks back at us. "But, that is not an appropriate conversation topic right now." He smiles at Kitty. "Well, dear, you are still charming and beautiful." He looks her up and down, and I can see Kitty's eyes narrow. I mentally will Lord Lancaster to move on. He kisses Kitty's hand.

"And you are irresistibly handsome, Lord Lancaster," Kitty says in her sexy voice. There is danger in her eyes.

This is already turning into a train wreck, but Kitty wouldn't try anything, would she? She has already admitted that she enjoyed killing that aristocrat at the Cat. I hope this isn't bringing back any of those memories for her. Kitty can be hard to control in a rage.

Lord Lancaster's gaze lingers on Kitty until Lady Lancaster clears her throat.

"Shall we sit?" Garrett says, gesturing to the furniture. The four of us head toward the same couch, but there is only room for three. Garrett sits in a single chair, and Maddie sits on a love seat. I settle down next to her. Surprisingly I find that I like her perfume. It is very light, like taking a short whiff of a flower.

"Would you care for a drink? Jenkins!" Jenkins appears at the door. "Please serve our guests. What would you like?" Silence.

"Brandy," says Mace.

"Brandy," repeats Bea.

"Brandy." Kitty.

"Brandy," I say.

"I will also have brandy," Garrett says. "And please refresh Lady Lancaster's drink as well."

"Of course, my Lord," Jenkins says, bowing.

"Now," says Lord Lancaster. "I am sure you all are wondering why you're here. Well - actually, let us wait until our drinks are served so that we can have our privacy."

I hear Bea groan, and I shoot her a warning stare. She rolls her eyes. Lady Lancaster shifts next to me.

"Dear," she says turning to me. "I never got your name."

"Oh," says Garrett. "I am so sorry. I must have forgotten to ask with _all the distractions_." He eyes Maddie sharply, who eyes him right back.

"Valerie," I say.

"And that is a Serkonan name?" asks Maddie.

"Yes." Is it?

"And it is a beautiful name, don't you agree, Maddie?"

"Oh yes, very nice." Maddie sighs. "Well, dear, welcome to Gristol."

"I - I've lived in Dunwall for almost my whole life," I say.

"I was _wondering_ why you didn't have an accent," Garrett says. "I have heard that the aristocracy in Serkonos live quite lavishly."

"Yes," I say.

"Of course, Maddie and I do as well, but we are not as... outlandish."

"Yes," I repeat.

We fall silent.

"Say, Jenkins?" says Garrett. Jenkins is busy putting drinks on a silver tray. "Didn't you used to work for the Brimsleys?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Do you two know each other?" Garrett points to Mace, and Jenkins looks over him briefly.

"No, my Lord."

"Oh," says Garrett, smoothing his hair. "You two must have worked there at different times, then."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Well," he laughs. "I am sure you two would have much to talk about. Surely you have had some familiar experiences."

Jenkins approaches with the drinks.

"Yes, my Lord," he says.

I can see that my companions are getting restless, specifically Bea and Kitty. Mace sits with his back straight and shoulders back, looking attentively at Garrett. I try to mimic him but give up after a while, preferring to be comfortable.

Jenkins leaves, closing the door behind him.

"So, what is your group called?" Garrett says, crossing his ankle over his knee.

"Our _gang _is called the Bastard Aristocrats," I say. I feel Maddie jump beside me.

"Excuse me?" says Garrett. "Well, I - I know you wear the clothing you found at Rosethorne Mansion, but I just assumed it was because there was nothing else."

"Nope," I say proudly. "We're all bastards of aristocrats."

Garrett clears his throat. "I see... Well, at least _one _of you should be a Pendleton," he says under his breath. "So, you all dress in our old clothes? Why just the men's clothing?"

"Because we look good in it," says Bea.

"Indeed," Garrett says. "You look just... splendid." He doesn't even _try _to smile that time. "And you're a _gang_? Just another street gang? But you dress _far_ too elegantly for a street gang."

"That's the idea," I say. "There used to be twenty five of us, but..." I pause. "Well, we made a mistake, and it ended up costing us a lot of lives."

"You mean they _died?_" Maddie says, eyes wide.

"Yes, they died."

Maddie and Garrett exchange glances as I do the same with my companions.

"Well," says Garrett, the one wrinkle on his forehead creasing. "As long as we're safe, I suppose it doesn't matter what you call yourselves." He puts on a fake smile.

Jenkins appears in the doorway. "If you would all please follow me to the dining room, dinner is ready to be served."

Bea and Kitty look relieved as we head to the dining room.

"Ugh, finally, the part I was lookin' forward to," Bea says to me quietly. "I'm gonna eat 'til I'm stuffed and then eat some more."

Garrett overhears her and smiles.

"There is plenty food for all of us, so eat as much as you would like."

"See, ya say that now..." I put my hand on Bea's arm, and we fall silent, filing through the dining room door.

* * *

I look down at my table place, noting the many utensils surrounding the empty space where my plate will go.

"A lotta forks here," Kitty says. She holds up a little fork. "Look at that. It's so tiny!"

I notice Maddie's eyes follow Kitty's hand as she holds the fork.

"Did we really have to bring out the _good_ silver, Garrett?" she says.

"Of course, Maddie. These are our _guests_." Garrett turns to me. "Don't mind her. We've all been a bit tense here with the plague and all."

I smile and nod.

Dinner is brought out in courses. The first dish is oysters. I've never even had an oyster before, and I cannot get myself to eat the fleshy... thing out of the shell. The others enjoy them.

"Oysters," Bea says. "The food of my people!" She means poor people by the river.

Next is egg and lemon soup. _Raw egg and lemon._ I _was _going to eat it, since it was filled with rice, but I made the mistake of asking what it was. Luckily, we get bread with our soup, and I chow down on a buttered roll, while Bea switches bowls with me.

The third course is salad. I can eat salad. I run my fork through the leaves, making sure there is nothing unfamiliar.

"Dear, you've hardly eaten anything," Garrett says. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," I reply. "I can be a picky eater at times. That's all."

"Well, would you like something special?"

"No, thanks. I'll eat the salad," I say, picking up a leaf of lettuce with my fork.

After the salad is the main dish, and I scan the plate, delighted to find out that I can identify everything. There is broccoli, some sort of multi-colored rice, and baked chicken covered in a white sauce.

"What kind of sauce is this?" I ask.

"It's a cream sauce, dear," Garrett replies. I guess that's okay. I dig into my food, but upon tasting the rice, I nearly spit is out.

"The rice is cold," I say.

"Yeah, I noticed that, too," says Bea. "I just didn't wanna say nothin'. It still tastes good though." She takes another bite.

"It's supposed to be that way," says Mace. "It's called rice salad."

I swallow the pieces in my mouth and take a swig of water from my glass, letting Bea reach over to eat the rice off my plate. Well, two out of three isn't bad.

"Why don't you tell us about Serkonan culture?" Mace sticks a piece of chicken into his mouth. "How is it different from Gristian culture?"

"Well... " I start. I scan the table, noting my tense companions, who have all stopped eating. I turn back toward Garrett. "In Serkonos, when we eat dinner... we... " There is a long pause.

"Have you forgotten, dear?" Garrett says, laughing.

"No, I just need to think of the right words for it, since there's not a term for it in Gristian," I reply.

_ Think!_

The more I pressure myself to think, the more blank my mind becomes.

"Didn't you tell me this once, Val?" Bea says. I sigh in relief. "That when you eat dinner with your family in Serkonos you - well, everyone starts off with a plate of food, but then they all pass it to the right. It's like this, uh, ritual they do. And then they say, 'Bless our Serkonan Food' except they don't say the 'Serkonan' part since it's _their_ food. Like if they ate Gristian food, they'd say 'Bless our Gristian food'.

"That's right," I say.

"Interesting... " Garrett says, nodding. "I have never seen this ritual done in Serkonos."

"Well, you wouldn't," Bea says. "Since they don't do it in front of foreigners. It's a sacred thing, ya know? Like only Serkonans can do it and watch it. Anybody else, they'll cut out their eyes." Bea uses her table knife to make a stabbing gesture aimed at her face, and as she repeats it over and over, I have to lightly kick her leg under the table to make her stop.

"I see." Garrett takes a sip of wine. "Actually, I have another question for you, Valerie. My wife acquired a green, beaded bracelet on our last trip to Serkonos, and I was wondering if you know what it means. It's made of a simple wooden bead, nothing fancy, and it's on a black string."

"Oh, those," I say. "Well, the green means... green, like nature. Nature is green. So, if you wear it, you will be able to make... nature. Like if you want to plant some flowers, you put on the bracelet before you do it, and they'll grow really big and tall."

"So, it's a bracelet meant for commoners?" asks Garrett.

"Yes," I reply. Garrett takes a deep breath.

"Well, good thing you only wore it once, dear," Garrett says to Maddie.

"Which was _far_ too many times," she replies. "That bracelet just didn't feel right, Garrett. I _told_ you. And now we've learned that it was a commoners' bracelet. One with _black magic_." She says the last two words in a whisper.

"We will get rid of it in the morning," says Garrett. "If you can find it underneath the piles of jewelry you own."

"I am very proud of my piles of jewelry," Maddie replies. "Most of them were given to me by my lovely husband." She gives Garrett a smirk, and he smiles back.

"Hey, what's your favorite Serkonan food, Val?" I turn to Bea, whose eyes are filled with humor, and I scowl at her.

"Well... uh, my favorite is a sweet dish, a dessert called... Marken...duck."

"Markenduck?" Garrett says. "So, it has duck in it? Strange."

"No, it's not duck," I say. "That's just the Serkonan name for it. It's honey with a cake outer layer, and then it's covered in sugar."

"I think I'd die after one bite," Maddie says.

"Yeah," I reply. "That's why they don't sell it to foreigners. It's an acquired taste, and foreigners _have_ died because of the... you know... with the sugar."

The Lancasters nod.

"So, shall we discuss business now or after dinner?" Garrett asks.

"Now," we say in unison.

"Well then," Garrett stands, clapping his hands. "Will all the servants please vacate the room and close the doors behind you? We need to have a private conversation, so please do not eavesdrop." Garrett sits, clearing his throat.

"Well, now we will talk. I've asked you four to come here today to do what you do best - or, what I assume you do best. I want you to steal for me. Rob houses."

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"Nothing in particular. All I want for you to do is rob and vandalize at least one house per any time of the day or night. You can choose. Whatever is easier. Take whatever you can carry. Whatever you want. Then, destroy the rest."

"Wait, wait, so ya want us to break into houses, steal stuff, break stuff... and then what?"

"And then leave."

"And we give you the stuff we stole?" I ask.

"No, keep it."

My companions and I exchange glances.

"And you're _payin'_ us to do this?" says Bea.

"That's right," Garrett says, grinning. "Did I not tell you that my offer was irresistible?"

"What's the catch?" says Mace. "There's always _something_ with you nobles. You hand out what looks like a good deal, but then we end up losing in the end."

"Well, there is one - "

"Knew it!" Mace says, standing. "Come on. Let's go. He's just gonna bullshit us for another few hours. All of you aristocrats are pieces - "

"_Mace_," I snap, and Bea and Kitty turn their attention to me. "_What_ did I say?" Mace looks back at me with wide eyes. "Sit... down." Mace slowly descends back into his chair, keeping his eyes on me, and I see Bea whistle silently.

"What are you gonna do, Val?" Mace asks, his eyes narrowing. "Cut off my ear?"

_ Am I?_

"We'll talk about it later," I say.

"Of course we will. Like we always do," Mace says, raising an eyebrow. He crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair, and we all fall silent.

"Continue," I say to Garrett.

"Ah, yes, well... " he says, becoming animated again. "Well, the one thing I cannot allow you all to do is to kill anyone. Everyone in the house must remain alive and uninjured."

"So, we rob the house while they're home?"

"That is ideal," says Garrett. "However it is not mandatory. The important thing is that you steal from and damage the _inside_ of the house. There should be no evidence of the break-in outside, except for broken windows and doors."

We stare at him for a few moments, and my eyes move to Maddie and then to Garrett again.

"What do you get out of it?" I say grimly, folding my arms.

_ I am Val, leader of the Bastard Aristocrats._ My heart pounds, and I feel almost high as the act I put on seems to come to me almost naturally.

Garrett has noticed my change in character as well.

"I am not required to tell you. However, I am willing. You see, many of the families of the Estate and Legal Districts operate under the assumption that they are safe in their homes. I want this to be a lie. I want them to be scared. I want them to want to protect themselves - with Sokolov technology, to be specific."

"Sokolov technology?" I ask. "So, walls of light? Arc pylons? Stuff like that?"

"Exactly."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mace nodding.

"And - " Starts Mace, and I give him a warning stare. He gives me a short nod, and I give him one back. "I'm guessing you've invested quite a bit of coin in this technology."

"Exactly," Garrett says, motioning to Mace. "Such a smart boy. Yes, I have invested very greatly in Sokolov technology, and to make my money back plus much more, I need more people to buy walls of light and arc pylons and whatever else they can use to protect their homes. So, your job is to make them scared. Make them feel unsafe in their homes."

"So, that's why you want us to destroy them as well as rob them. The destruction gives them the message that we're dangerous. We're a true threat to their families." Mace raises an eyebrow. "I apologize. It is... actually a good plan."

"No need to apologize," says Garrett. "It is very difficult to trust one another these days." He puts his hand on Maddie's shoulder. "Well, I am tired of sitting at this table, so let us move to someplace more comfortable."

We stand, and Garrett calls the servants into the room. I watch as they file from the kitchen almost immediately, heading to the table.

"Let's see," says Garrett. "Ladies, why don't you converse in the parlor, and Mace and I will go to the lounge." I look at Mace, who keeps a calm expression on his face, and we split into two groups, Bea, Kitty, and I following Lady Lancaster to the parlor.

* * *

Back in the parlor Lady Lancaster, Bea, Kitty, and I have tea as we relax on the plush furniture. At first we have the tea to occupy us, but when we finish it, we stare at each other in silence.

Maddie puts on a pleasant face.

"Well... um... have you heard about the Pendletons?" she says softly.

We shake our heads.

"Supposedly, their silver mines have run out of silver."

We smile and nod.

"And the twins, Morgan and Custis..."

I jump at the mention of Morgan. Lord Morgan Pendleton.

"They've been spending all their coin on whores!" Maddie lets out a high giggle, and we try to laugh along with her. "So," Maddie continues, more enthusiastically than before. "That means that they're running out of money, but still they just spend, spend, spend. Personally, I think they have been _far _too close to the Lord Regent, and Garrett has informed me that they sell their votes in Parliament to Burrows. That's how desperate they are! But what do _I_ know about boring politics? Oh, and I've also heard on good authority that they're _living_ at the Golden Cat. A whore house! Imagine... Maybe they'll be whoring _themselves_ out next. I wouldn't mind paying a visit to the Cat if they were there. Of course, I can't tell the difference between them, but - " she whispers. "_I've heard that their lovemaking methods are drastically different._" We try to laugh with her once again. "Oh, I guess I should have asked this _before _starting on this conversation topic just in case one of you is a Pendleton. You all are the, uh, children of aristocrats, yes? The Pendletons are very famous for the number of little ones they have running around Dunwall. Though, I guess some of them wouldn't be so little anymore. Anyway, were there any Pendletons among your group? There had to have been at _least_ one."

We stare at her silently, and she frowns.

"Oh, I apologize. Is that not an appropriate conversation topic? You know, with their... tragic passing and all?"

"Mace is a Pendleton," Bea interrupts. "And so is - yeah, Mace is a Pendleton." I grow tense at Bea's close slipup.

"Oh! Your male companion? Why, how simply _delicious_. I wish I could use that information on the Pendletons the next time I see them, but we _do_ have to keep all this business a secret, so I guess I will not be embarrassing... Which one?"

"Huh?" says Bea.

"Which Pendleton sired him?"

"Uh," says Bea, looking around.

"The one that you didn't name. Treavor, I think," I say. This time Maddie lets out a genuine giggle.

"Oh, _Treavor_. That naughty little man! Must have gotten one of the whores pregnant, that poor girl. Nobody should have to be with someone that scrawny and... _pale_. He looks like he's starving all the time, but personally, I think he's sick, the poor dear. I don't know with what, though. I hope it's not deadly, because then we wouldn't be able to make fun of him anymore." She laughs. We laugh. "Oh, and did you hear what he said to Lord Shaw about his wife? He said she had the face of a plague rat! It was during one of the Boyles' parties, too. Just _delightfully_ scandalous. If Shaw is a proper gentleman, he will defend his wife's honor. So, I guess we should get used to not being able to make fun of Treavor anymore." She sighs. "How unfortunate." She pauses, and I notice that all three of us are leaning in various directions, Bea nearly asleep. Maddie keeps her smile on.

"And then there's the Brimsleys. Oh, that couple generates the _juiciest_ gossip. Well, you know they've made a killing in their business, but supposedly, their good fortune is due to the fact that they worship the Outsider! And that's known for a fact. I know a few Ladies and Lords who have attended... _rituals_ at their home. Wouldn't that just be _wickedly_ sinful? Oh, imagine passing an Overseer with a secret like that. I would feel so naughty! I heard that Mrs. Brimsley picked up a poor youth and brought him home with her. He's probably around your Mace's age. Well, no doubt there's _something_ sexual going on, but I heard that he helped her kidnap her cousin, and Mrs. Brimsley _bathed in his blood!_" My gaze wanders to Bea and Kitty, who are both attempting not to laugh. "Then they did some sort of sex ritual, both the Brimsleys _and_ the boy. Actually, the boy might be dead now. I don't quite remember. I think I've heard a few different things. Yes, they _sacrificed_ him. To the Outsider. It's true! The Worthingtons were there. And they participated!" I yawn. All the talk of blood rituals and sex woke me up a bit, but still I find that I am anxious to leave. I don't know any of these people. Bea seems to read my mind.

"Well, did ya hear about the Dead Eels?" Bea says.

"Um, no," Maddie replies, dropping the smile.

"Well.. I heard from a friend of a friend of that friend's dealer's girlfriend that Lizzy Stride, their leader - you heard of her?"

"A bit," says Maddie, shifting in her seat.

"Well, turns out Lizzy's been fuckin' Slackjaw," Bea says. I try to keep myself from smiling.

"Who?"

"Slackjaw. He runs the Bottle Street Gang," says Bea.

"Oh," says Maddie. "I think I've heard that name. They're the ones who, um, stole that statue from the Fellings, yes?"

"Yeah, that's them," says Bea. "Took that statue right from the Fellin's or whatever. Turns out it was, uh, too hot to sell, if ya know what I mean."

"Oh, yes," Maddie says, nodding.

"I mean who thinks of somethin' like that? And with _horses_ too?"

"Mmm hmm," says Maddie.

"Well anyways," Bea continues. "So, like I says, Lizzy Stride, Slackjaw, doin' the dirty. So, the gangs find out, right? The Eels are the first to attack the Bottle Street Gang, and you know the Dead Eels, they can be ruthless. So, they jump the Bottle Street boys n' kill 'em all. And I'm not talkin' bout no clean death. No. The Eels like to take their boathooks," Bea says, mimicking the gesture. "And just stick it straight in your belly." Bea gets up to demonstrate on Maddie, and I have to put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. Kitty, to my left, is shaking and turning red. "And then here's the good part," says Bea. "So, they got the, the boathook in your belly just like this. And boathooks ain't really sharp or nothin', you know? So they take it like this, and then they just draaaaaag it upwards." Maddie is breathing hard, and her face has turned pale. "Just like this, they just draaaaaaaaag it up, tearin' all the skin n' muscle n' stuff, till they hit the ribcage."

"Oh!" Maddie jumps as Bea knocks on her ribcage.

"And then they just yank the hook right out. But remember, it's a hook. And hooks attach to stuff. So out come all the organs, just spillin' everywhere, you know, just _gushin'_ like - " Bea makes her best gushing sound. "Ya know? Like the guts n' stuff, all of that just pours right out. And usually the victim's tryin' to shove 'em back in like it'll do somethin'. Ain't that funny? So, like I says, the organs are gushin', and all the Bottle Street boys are on the ground, their guts just spillin' out everywhere. It's like a shipment of Serkonan blood sausage that got just dumped all over the floor, 'cept it's squishy and bloody. Like, you know, when you have dinner n' you cut into your Serkonan blood sausage how it - "

"I'm not feeling too well," Maddie interrupts. "I think I will go lie down." And without another word, she rushes out the door.

"Bea, did I ever tell you you're my favorite person?" Kitty says, laughing, and Bea bows as we give her a round of applause.

"What's Serkonan blood sausage?" I ask.

"I dunno," says Bea. "I heard it somewhere. I think it's real expensive."

"Ahem." Jenkins stands in the doorway. "If you would please follow me to the foyer, Lord Lancaster and your male companion are waiting."

We arrive at the foyer, but only Mace is present.

"Lord Lancaster. Where has he gone?" asks Jenkins.

"He's talking to Lady Lancaster in the other room," Mace replies.

"Ah, well I suppose we will wait for him to return." Jenkins moves to stand in front of the double doors, but already Bea's headed for the other room. "E - excuse me!" Jenkins calls, but we follow Bea, waiting just outside the closed door.

I can hear Maddie sobbing in the next room.

"I just don't know why you never _listen _to me, Garrett. Sometimes I think you don't appreciate me at all."

"Oh, don't be daft, Maddie. Of course I appreciate you. I appreciate you _every fucking night,_" he hisses. I look to Bea, who snickers. "You are being overdramatic, as usual, and ruining both yours _and_ everybody else's time. Remember at Dunwall Tower, when you dropped your wineglass on the ground, staining your shoes?"

"It got on my _dress_, too."

"And remember when Waverly Boyle called you 'Mrs. Lancaster'?"

"She said that on _purpose_, Garrett. You just don't understand."

Maddie's sobs grow louder, and we head back to the foyer.

Mace looks to me and smiles.

"Rich people problems," he says, chuckling. Kitty taps her foot.

"I'm ready to get outta here," she says. "These people are unbearable."

" 'Every fucking night!' " Kitty says, mimicking Garrett. "Can you imagine what aristocrat sex sounds like?"

"Don't you know?" I ask.

"No. I wanna know what it sounds like between two aristocrats. Not some drunk lord and a whore," she replies.

"It probably don't sound like nothin'," says Bea. "They just lay on each other, rubbin' their bodies together, like ya do when you're tryin' to keep your hands warm."

"Ugh," I say. "Stop that."

Bea laughs.

"Or maybe they do make noise, but it has to be proper," Bea says. " 'Oh, excuse me.' 'Pardon me' 'Excuse me' 'Pardon me' 'Excuse... me' 'Pardon... me' 'Excuse... me!' 'Pardon... me!' 'Excuse me!' 'Pardon Me!' 'ExcusemePardonmeExcusemePardonmeExcusemepardonmee xcusemepardonmeexcusemepardon... meeee' 'Excuuuuuuuuuuse meeeeeeeee!'"

I can't help but laugh at Bea's display as she acts out the scene, but I look around, making sure Lord Lancaster hasn't walked in on our conversation. Jenkins stands at the door, his face unreadable.

"Oh, Garrett, you've messed up my hair. That's not polite," says Kitty.

"I apologize profusely, dear Maddie. How barbaric of me." Bea mimics Garrett's voice again.

"I feel our intercourse is getting _much_ too raunchy. Pretty soon, we'll start sounding like commoners."

"Gasp! Not that! We should keep the noise down next time."

"Yes, and perhaps we should wear our fine clothes. The Lancasters are no barbarians." Now, we are all laughing, even Mace, who has been grim this entire time.

"I am glad you all are still in good spirits!" Garrett enters the room, closing the door behind him. "I hope you will excuse my wife. She is not feeling well and has gone to lie down."

"Please tell her I hope she feels better," I say.

"Oh, yes, I will. Thank you, dear." Garrett looks us over one more time.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed this evening. I know I did. I will send a note your way within a few days, once everything is worked out. Then you may start your job."

"I think it will be very nice working will you," says Mace, shaking Garrett's hand.

"Of course young gentleman, and _do_ remember our conversation tonight."

"Of course."

"Ah, Jenkins, please lead them to the back - to the railcar," says Garrett.

* * *

As we ride in the railcar, the air seems to buzz with energy.

"You know, even though it was borin', this was a good night," says Kitty. "_Because guess who gets to eat his shoes tomorrow?_"

"Kitty, really?" says Mace.

"_Yeah_, really!" Kitty puts her finger in Mace's face. "You're gonna eat those shoes, soles and all."

"And how am I going to do that?" asks Mace.

"One piece at a time. I'll even cut it up for you with my saber," Kitty replies.

"Use your knife," I say. "You're not ruining your saber cutting shoes into pieces."

The railcar winds its way back to our house, and as I look out the window; the streets are empty and silent.

* * *

We arrive at Rosethorne Mansion to find the front door wide open.

"What?" says Mace. "No... " He runs ahead, and I follow. "If that bastard had our stuff stolen... " Mace heads straight for the inventory closet, whipping open the door and lighting the lantern. I scan the shelves quickly.

"It doesn't look like anything's gone," I say, panting.

"Yeah," says Mace, rubbing his head. "Do we have anything else valuable? You know, that we actually care about?"

"Checked the armory!" Bea says, running up to us with Kitty behind her. "Nothin's missin'."

I sigh.

"We'll do a full inventory in the morning, but right now I just wanna go to - "

I jump as a large crash sounds in the kitchen. We exchange glances.

"I'll go check it out," Kitty says. "Babies."

"I'll go with - " I start.

"Nope." Kitty holds up her hand. "I got this, boss."

Kitty calling me "boss" reminds me of Mace's display at the dinner table. If I'm ever going to be taken seriously as a leader, I have to do _something._

I watch as Kitty disappears into the hallway, her blue lamp glowing eerily in the dark.

"We really need more lanterns," I say.

"Scared?" says Bea.

"More like blind," I reply. Bea nods.

"Good idea, boss - ma'am." She plops her hand down on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"You all know you don't have to call me that," I say.

"Yeah," says Bea. "But, ya know, every now n' then, we need a reminder of who's boss."

We all jump as another crash sounds in the kitchen, followed by several more.

Mace runs first, so Bea and I follow. We enter the kitchen, and Mace picks up the lantern that has been dropped on the floor.

"Got it," says Kitty. "I got it. Just a weeper."

I exhale, and Mace shines the light on the corpse lying on the floor. Kitty's knife is stuck in its skull.

"Who didn't lock the damn door?" I say, rubbing my forehead. Each of my companions point to each other. "Just - " I groan, throwing my hands up in the air.

"Won't happen again," says Mace. I look to him, studying his face for a moment.

"Good." I turn to leave.

"Well, look at this," Mace says, pointing to the weeper.

"What?" Kitty snaps.

"You just stabbed someone!"

"Wha - oh Outsider's Eyes, Mace. That don't count. It's a _weeper_."

"Weepers are people. They're just sick," Mace gloats.

"Val, help me out here," says Kitty.

"A weeper is a person, and it's still night, so Mace wins," I say flatly. I inch backward toward the door.

"Ha!" Mace says.

"Ha, nothin'," says Kitty. "It's not like you actually get anything." Mace stops, frowning.

"Dammit!"

"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," Kitty says.

I leave them to argue in the kitchen, thinking of my mother as a weeper, who - for whatever reason - I half-expect to grab me as I feel my way through the dark.


	4. Part IV: The Dance

**Part IV: The Dance**

I awake feeling shiny and new.

During the night, I had a burst of inspiration, and I jump from bed, dressing quickly and then heading downstairs after grabbing a bucket of black paint and a brush, which, for whatever reason, had been left in the house when it was abandoned.

Downstairs, I study the foyer and find the perfect place. I take the black paint, writing letters in all capitals on the wall next to the front door. I stripped the wallpaper first, and underneath that, the wall is a dirty white, and the black paint is crisp and clear as I write on the wall's surface. I step back to look at my work.

WALL OF EARS, it says.

I take a deep, refreshing breath and set the paint down, heading to the dining room. Mace and Kitty glare at each other on either side of the table, while Bea focuses on eating her canned peaches. I pour myself a bowl in the kitchen and sit at the dining room table.

"Why are they staring at each other?" I ask Bea. She looks up at me.

"Fuck if I know. They were like this when I got here." She takes a bite of peaches, and I sigh, feeling my usual tiredness coming on.

_ No_. I won't let it catch up with me. I am a leader, and I need to lead.

I eat quickly and stand.

"Hey, you two," I say. Kitty and Mace turn to look at me. "Meeting in the foyer."

"Ooh, you're usin' fancy words now," says Bea.

"I think foyer sounds better than 'the front door room'," I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, probably." Bea takes her last bite, and the Bastards follow me to the foyer.

I move a wooden chair to the middle of the room as the rest of my companions enter, and I see Mace's face turn pale.

"What's this?" he asks.

"What do you think?" I say. I point to the chair. "Sit." Mace slowly makes his way to the chair. "You two, over there," I say, directing Kitty and Bea to stand a ways in front of him. I stand next to Mace, speaking to my gang.

"Today, we are going to start over. Lately, we haven't been much of a gang, and even before that, we weren't a very good gang. So, now we're going to be a gang. A real gang. That means that you three will respect me as your leader. No more backtalk, no more disobedience. I've been too soft on you. So, it is my fault that our gang has faded away to almost nothing. But we have an opportunity to reverse this. From today on, I will be a real leader. Sure, you may hate me at times, but I realize that I cannot always be liked, even by you three. So, Kitty, you need to learn how to control your temper. You haven't gone off in a while, but when you do you are uncontrollable. Yes, it comes in handy in certain situations, such as when you saved yourself and Mace by cutting through the Dead Eels. When we fight, I want you to use that anger you have, but you need to learn how to use it when it is appropriate. Bea, your quick thinking has saved us more than once, but I need you to think before you speak. Just take a few seconds to ask yourself, 'Is this a good idea for me to say this?' I don't appreciate you putting me on the spot at that dinner, even if you thought it would be funny. And Mace." I turn to him. "No more disrespect. You are very intelligent, yes, but that does not give you the right to question my authority. I always appreciate your counsel, but you are not the leader. I am." I take a deep breath, looking each of the Bastards in the eye. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," they all say.

"You can still call me 'Val'," I add. "Just you three, though."

"Yes, Val," they all say.

"Thank you." Kitty and Bea nod.

"Now, comes the dirty work. Mace?" Mace turns his head to me. "What you did at the dinner table was absolutely unacceptable, and I cannot let it slide." Mace glances briefly at the wall.

"You're kidding, right?" He says. "Val, I won't do it again. I promise."

"No," I say. "This is a gang, and when my gang is disobedient or disrespectful, they need to be punished. This is the only way I will gain true respect. So, Mace, today you will be losing an ear."

"No, please - "

"Mace!" I snap. He closes his mouth. "What did I say about questioning my authority?" Mace looks down at his feet. "It is obvious that you need to be taught a lesson," I tell him. "It is obvious that you will continue with your disrespect unless I do something about it. So, after I cut off your ear today, you will have two more chances. The second time, I'll cut off your other ear. The third time, you will be kicked out of the top three. The forth time - " I pause. "The forth time, you will be executed." I hear Kitty and Bea inhale sharply. "For all of your other Bastards, who we will be recruiting in the next few months, they only have two chances - one per ear. So, count your blessings." I once again look each one of my Bastards in the eye and feel a rush in my head. I am high, and for the first time in months, I am optimistic. We will get our gang back, and we'll be much better than before.

I take a clean knife from a table behind me, which also holds my other tools: The paint and paintbrush, a hammer, and a nail. Also, some bandages rest on its surface.

"Bea, as usual, you will care for the wound," I say. Bea nods, and I turn to Mace, knife in hand. He is shaking. "Be brave, Mace. After today, you won't be disrespecting me ever again." I bring the blade down to the top of his earlobe and quickly slash downward.

Mace screams immediately, and I pull the rest of the ear from his head. He falls to the ground, a mixture of crying and yelling coming from his mouth.

Ignoring Mace, I hold the earlobe between my fingers and grab the hammer and nail from the table. The white wall beckons me, and as I press the bloodied flesh to it, spots of red appear on its surface. I bring the nail to it.

_ Thwack!_ The hammer hits the head of the nail, piercing the ear. _Thwack! _I hammer the nail again, driving it further into the wall. One more should do it. _Thwack! _The third time is the most satisfying, and I stand back to look at my work. It is not quite finished yet.

I take a small paintbrush, dipping it into the black paint and heading back to the wall, and underneath the ear I paint: M ACE - I. Now, it is finished, and for the first time in a long while, this house feels like home again.

* * *

One week later, our letter finally arrives along with a small package, and I am the first to open it, squinting my eyes at Lord Garrett Lancaster's script.

_ It is time. I apologize for the delay, but there were a few things I had to take care of before letting you all start your job. I am providing you with these masks to hide your faces. I thought they would be appropriate with your aristocrat theme and all. Once you get this letter, pick a house and go._

_G.L._

I open the package, pulling out four masks. They are decorated with feathers and sequins and all sorts of glitter and paints. Each is made to look like an animal: a fox, a rabbit, a cat, and a rat. I distribute the masks myself, not wanting my companions to get into a fight over them. In the end, Kitty is the cat, Bea is the rabbit, Mace is the rat, and I am the fox, taking the only full mask, the rest of them stopping at the nose.

In our excitement at the beginning of the week, we already picked a house to rob. We walked around the Estate District in our clean clothes, even making sure to tuck our shirts in, and considered our options. Finally, we decided on a house with a golden gate.

Now, we stand in front of the gate again, looking up at the mansion that looms behind it. Fear and excitement fill my body.

"Everyone clear on what they're supposed to do?" I ask.

"Yes, Val," they say, and we continue forward, opening the gate. Mace heads to the back, while Bea and Kitty go to either side of the mansion where there are handy trellises against the walls allowing them to climb to the second floor. Bea will have to improvise her way to the third floor. I watch Kitty climb, waiting until she gets to the window and then run to the other side to watch Bea. She has already opened the third floor window, and I see her legs disappear into the building. It is my turn, now. I don my mask and go to the front door.

The knocker is gold and in the shape of a plaque with the name Merryweather engraved in swirling script on its face. I knock and take out my pistol.

I can hear movement inside and then a scraping noise as the door is unlocked. A male servant emerges.

"May I - " I shove him back into the house, slamming the door behind me.

"Don't move or I'll shoot," I tell him, and he looks at me with wide eyes. "P- P - Please don't shoot me," he says.

"I won't if you cooperate, got it?" I say. The servant nods. "Now, I need you to call as many servants as you can downstairs." I lead him to the master staircase.

"The bell," he says. "I can ring the servants' bell." He jumps as Mace enters the room, his pistol drawn, and we follow the servant to the bell. He rings it repeatedly, and Mace heads to the servants' stairs. I make the servant follow. I can hear the squeals of a few maids as I enter the hallway, and Mace already has his pistol aimed at them.

"Into the cellar," he says, and we herd the servants downstairs while the male servant continues to ring the bell.

"How many servants work here?" I ask.

"O - Only six," he says. "Just six." Another servant emerges on the stairs, and Mace gets him to the cellar with another two female servants after that.

"_Move_," I say to the male servant, pushing my pistol into his back as we descend the stairs. "Are the Merryweathers home?" I ask him.

"Yes," he says. "Both Lord and Lady Merryweather are in the house." I stay silent, and Mace and I lock the cellar door once all the servants are inside.

"Did you check for other exits in the cellar?" I ask Mace.

"Yes," he replies. "No sewer access and no other ways out."

"Good," I say. It makes our job much easier.

Mace and I head back to the foyer and then to the dining room, taking one chair each. We set them on the floor in the foyer, facing away from each other, and just in time Kitty and Bea appear with Lord and Lady Merryweather.

"Stay right there," I tell them, and the Merryweathers stand in the middle of the foyer.

The Merryweathers are middle aged, Lady Merryweather wearing a suit of cream with her hair in a bun, and Lord Merryweather, a pudgy man, in blue and beige.

Mace runs to lock the front door and then turns.

"Strip down to your underwear," He tells the Merryweathers. We look at him, puzzled, but I allow it. The Merryweathers look at one another and then back to me.

"Why?" Lady Merryweather asks. "Please, just take what you want and leave." I can see a few tears falling from her eyes.

"No," I say. "You're not getting off that easy. Now, do what he told you to do!" I raise my voice. All four of us have pistols on the Merryweathers now, and we watch as they throw their fine silks and cottons on the floor. The Merryweathers are now in their underwear, both of them wrinkled and flabby.

"Sit," I tell them, and they obediently sit in the chairs. I motion to the others to tie them up.

Now that the Merryweathers are restrained, their mouths and eyes covered with sticky tape, we can rest, and we put away our pistols, moving our masks to the top of our heads.

"Did you check the other floors?" I ask Bea and Kitty.

"Yeah, as much as I could," says Bea, and Kitty nods. I sigh.

"Well, now, I guess we'll have some fun."

* * *

Bea is the one to find the audiograph player, and she shuffles through a stack of audiographs, picking one at random.

"Let's try this one," she says, sticking the sheet into the player. She turns it on, and we are greeted by a single cello. The other instruments start to join in, mixing together and becoming richer and fuller. The Bastards and I make our way individually through the house, filling our sacks until they hardly close anymore.

"I found a tiara!" Kitty says, attempting to put it on her head. "We're gonna be the richest gang in Dunwall."

"Yeah, unless it gets out that we made a deal with an aristocrat. It's gonna ruin our reputation," says Bea.

"Well, besides us there's only two other people who know about the deal, and..." Kitty grins. "There's always a way to solve that."

I nod. "When we're done using the Lancasters, we'll get rid of them. Maybe they'll even be the last house we hit." My face stays serious. This is for business, not pleasure.

Kitty laughs. "So, are we gonna start this or what?" I look around at the room, sparkling, clean, perfect, but soon, we will destroy it all.

We scatter, heading to different rooms, and I walk through the house opening each door and glancing into each room. Where do I start? For whatever reason, I expect to find the perfect room to start with, but as I continue to search, the room hides from me.

Soon, I have searched the whole house, and I find that I am frozen. What do I do? I look around. How do I start? Maybe watching the others will give me tips.

I find Mace in the parlor, where he plays the piano. I didn't even know he knew how to play piano. He seems to be mesmerized, his eyes closed, and his fingers gliding perfectly over the keys. He hasn't touched the room yet, and I nearly tell him to start his job. I stop myself. I know he'll get to it when he's ready.

I see Bea run upstairs, but there is noise coming from the dining room. Upon investigation, I discover Kitty, who has broken every glass cabinet door and now swings from the chandelier. She kicks her feet up, shattering every vase and plate on the table, and then she drops down running and then leaping off its edge. She puts her arms behind a cabinet, pushing it over onto the table, and the dishes and glass go crashing to the floor. She knocks down the other two cabinets and then takes her pistol from across her chest, aiming it at the chandelier. She shoots without warning, making me jump, and the chandelier comes down, shaking the floor as it shatters. I watch for a while as Kitty takes a lamp, hitting everything she comes near - the table, the already shattered glass, the fallen shelves, the walls - she hits it with a primitive fury reminiscent of her moments of reckless bloodlust. There is no blood, but she is in one of her rages, hitting the broken furniture over and over again, her mind only on one thing - complete destruction. She laughs and screams in ecstasy as she gives into her desire, her compulsion to destroy. Kitty is in her true form, now, and nobody will be able to stop her from fulfilling her desire.

Bea is in a bedroom - not the master one - and I watch as she throws various objects from pillows to vases at the mirror over the dresser. She seems to be playing a game; she plays it all by herself, but still, she has fun. She leaps onto the bed, jumping up and down, completely out of sync with the music playing from downstairs. She giggles like a child, picking up the pillows and tearing them open. The down bursts from the fabric, filling the air.

"Feather snow!" Bea cheers, tearing open another pillow and then jumping to the floor to roll in the feathers. She giggles non-stop now, until she runs into the dresser. "Ow!" she says, rubbing her side, but then she laughs again, pushing herself up onto her feet and then looking for something else to play with.

Mace has stopped playing the piano, but the audiograph player continues to play music throughout the house. He stands with his back to me, looking at a painting, a portrait of the Merryweathers, in silence - never moving, just staring. After a while, he reaches up to take the painting from the wall, and I can hear him breathing hard. He mumbles something at it, his voice becoming gritty and dark, until it almost sounds as though he is growling. Mace, with his small frame, lifts the painting above his head and then brings it down. The frame breaks on the floor, and he puts his foot through the canvas.

He screams and growls, pure anger on his face - this is personal. He tears the canvas in half and then moves on to the piano. He runs his fingers over the keys before taking a part of the broken frame and bringing it down on them. It doesn't do much damage, only destroying a few keys, but he keeps at it, the piano letting out a discordant cry every time it is struck. Mace reaches underneath the piano, trying to lift it, but it is too heavy, and he stands, kicking it over and over again, tears falling from his eyes. He screams at it, and his face turns red, and suddenly he takes off across the room grabbing a floor lamp and then bringing it down on the piano. The top of the grand piano slams closed, and he hits it repeatedly, leaving it with dents and scratches. He growls. He is frustrated, and goes for the cabinets instead, breaking figurines and music boxes. Fragile treasures of all sorts shatter to pieces, never to be put back together again. He grabs a glass egg, throwing it against the wall, and once everything is broken, he tips the cabinet onto the floor. He throws vases and statuettes, hurling them upwards so that they shatter on the ceiling, the bits and pieces raining down onto his head. Once everything else in the room is destroyed, he goes back to attacking the piano.

I decide to leave, stopping in the hall leading down into the cellar. The servants must be scared, and the thought makes me alarmingly happy. These are the people who make the aristocracy's lives so easy, doing everything for them in exchange for a bit of coin. They deserve to be locked down there. They deserve to be scared. Maybe they will have time to think about what damage they have done.

Kitty runs by, heading up the servants' stairs, and I leave my Bastards to destroy the house and head to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, I open the cabinets looking for something to eat, but I am distracted by a strange, tall box in the corner. I approach it, studying its exterior. The wooden contraption is about as tall as me, and I open the door and find myself greeted by cool air. It's an icebox. I've never seen one before. They're expensive and only available to the rich. To my luck, there seem to be leftovers inside. I pull the food from the icebox, setting it on a nearby counter.

"You ran off." Bea enters the room.

"I got hungry," I say, and I see Bea out of the corner of my eye, checking the dishes that I have set out. I take the last one and close the door to the icebox, noticing that Bea has already torn the leg off of a roasted chicken and bitten into it.

"You're eating it cold?" I ask her.

"Tastes okay," Bea tells me, chicken skin hanging from her mouth. I approach the counter to look at my options, and I follow Bea's gaze to a strange, wobbly, jiggly dish. "I'm tryin' that one next," says Bea.

It is red and slightly see-through, and I touch my finger to it, watching it jiggle. Bea laughs with her mouth full of chicken and pokes it herself. I poke it harder until my finger breaks the surface and sinks into the gel. Taking a small piece between my fingers, I hold it out in front of me.

"Try it," says Bea, chewing.

"I dunno," I say, looking at the sticky, red blob on my hand.

"Come on, you're the _new_ Val. You can't be defeated by a little bit of... food." Bea looks at me encouragingly, and I bring my finger to my mouth, letting the gel sit on my tongue before chewing it. I grimace.

"It's really sweet," I say. "It kind of reminds me of Mother's Cure." No more jiggly dessert for me.

I settle on making myself a sandwich, and the others join us.

Kitty looks through the food options while Mace stands in the far corner, a faraway look in his eyes.

"He just kinda followed me here," Kitty says. "I think he's still pretty gone, though." Kitty seems to understand Mace's current state, but unlike him, she's cooled down and returned to her normal self.

"You don't have to stay," I say to Mace, and he immediately makes his way out of the kitchen. Kitty laughs, tearing off a piece of chicken.

We eat in silence, until Kitty speaks.

"You've been quiet, Val," she says. "Need some help?"

"Headin' back," Bea says, leaving the kitchen holding a blob of jiggly dessert in her hand.

"Help with what?" I ask Kitty.

"You know," she says. "Help with gettin' to that place. The place where there's nothin' to worry about - no responsibilities, no danger - just nothin'. You just fill it with emotion and see where it takes you." I sigh.

"I don't know what you mean," I reply.

"That's why I'm givin' you help," Kitty says, leaning toward me. "The secret is to let go."

"Let go?" I ask her, puzzled.

"Yeah, just... lose everything. It'll come back eventually, don't worry, but you need to learn how to relax and let go," Kitty tells me. I look at her skeptically.

"Just go try it. Pick a room and just let yourself go. Don't hold back."

* * *

I pick another one of the bedrooms. It is decorated with statuettes on shelves and pottery, its walls painted pink. The comforter on the bed is a flowered pattern, and the floor is polished wood. Everything seems to be perfectly placed.

"Let go," I say, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. After a few moments, I open them again. Have I let go yet? I don't think so. I pace around the room, finally deciding to just break something. I pick a statue of a small child. It is the color of a pearl and shiny, the child smiles. I find that I don't like it at all. Why is the child so happy? What in this child's life made it smile so brightly?

The only way to break the child's smile is to break the child, I realize, and I look at the statuette one more time before throwing it against the perfect pink wall. It shatters, and I imagine it in pieces, crying loudly.

"I'm broken!" It says.

"Good," I reply.

The bookshelf to my right is the next thing to come down, and it crashes to the floor, little dancing figurines of porcelain and sculptures of glass, shattering on the polished ground. I leap on top of the bookshelf, pulling a plank of wood - part of a wall shelf - from the pink mess of a wall. I swing the wood, reveling in every crash and crunch, and suddenly I feel as though I am invincible. There is nothing that can defeat me.

I run downstairs, feeling refreshed and run into Bea as she emerges from the cellar, giggling.

"Vaaaal!" she says, as though she hasn't seen me in a long time. "I - " she laughs. "I just went down there and told 'em - " I wait for her to continue. "I - I told 'em that they had to drink all the wine by the end of the day, or else we'd kill 'em." Bea bends over, tears in her eyes, laughing and coughing. "I said, 'Start with the older vintages' - Val, they're gonna drink up thousands of coin in wine!"

I have to admire Bea for her inventiveness, and I laugh along with her. Kitty runs up behind us.

"Yaaaah!" she screams in an attempt to scare us. Instead, we just laugh at her, and Kitty joins us.

Soon, we are all running through the house, smashing anything we come by. I pass Bea, who grabs my arm, and we hold each others makeshift clubs, spinning in a circle until we are too dizzy to stand. I find that I cannot stop laughing and stumble through the hall, blindly swinging my piece of wood. Bea rolls down the master stairs, giggling and then running back upstairs. We take off again, continuing our dance of destruction. I head to the third floor - the servants' quarters. I kick open a locked door, my plank of wood coming down on whatever cheap items the servant owns. I knock down a bookshelf and smash the mirror. I rip the sheets from the bed, taking out my saber and shredding them to pieces. Then I move on to the other rooms, destroying indiscriminately.

I can hear giggling by the stairs.

"Val!" I hear. "Look what Bea did!"

I hurry downstairs, meeting Kitty, and she leads me into one of the bathrooms where Bea has broken open a pipe. Water flows from it, and I can see that she has also stuffed a towel into the bathtub drain and turned on the faucet.

"She just went to find more bathrooms," said Kitty. "This whole place is gonna be flooded!" Kitty and I laugh as though it is some secret joke, and Kitty takes my hand, leading me to the master bedroom. "Help me tear this down," she says, grabbing a hold of the canopy. I pull at one of the posts until it breaks, and Kitty does the same, the cloth floating down. We yank it, and my saber is out. I stick it right through the middle, poking holes in the fabric, and Kitty and I tear the holes with our hands until the canopy is destroyed. We skip through the room doing our now-familiar routine of smashing everything in sight.

We run through the halls again, hitting everything we've already smashed, and soon we meet each other by the master stairs, panting and laughing. We cough, trying to catch our breaths, and I notice that Mace stands in the foyer. He waves us down.

"I found some paint out back in a shed," he says blankly. He has already opened the cans of black and red paint, and he sticks his finger into the black, letting it run onto his hand. Turning to the Merryweathers, he says, "Let's expose you for what you really are." He puts his finger on Lord Merryweather's forehead, tracing his finger along the skin to form a letter. Eventually, he has written a word: BASTARD. "Join in," he tells us, and we stick our fingers in the paint, writing everything we've been labeled onto their noble skin.

We write on their bodies all the words we've been called: TRASH, SCUM, RAT, WHORE, FILTH, MISTAKE, REGRET, SHAME, IMPOSTER, BASTARD. The words seem to go on and on, and we write until there is no more flesh to write upon. The paint runs as the tears fall down Lady Merryweather's face, and Lord Merryweather stares at his feet.

"How do you feel?" I ask them, taking the tape from their mouths. Lady Merryweather cries.

"Please," she says between sobs. "Please leave us be."

"You'll go to prison for this!" Lord Merryweather tells me.

"Of course," I say. "When you tell the City Watch that you were robbed by four people with animal masks, I'm sure they'll be able to find us. That is, if we leave you alive in the end." I look down on them. I look down on them, and I want to spit. "As long as you're good, we'll let you live." I put the tape back on their mouths.

We stand back to examine our masterpiece, and Mace sighs, smiling for the first time since we've been here.

"I feel better," he says, turning to me. His eyes are bright. I smile back at him.

"Me too."

We leave the audiograph player untouched, letting it play its music, and the servants downstairs, letting them fill themselves to the brim with wine. There is only one more thing to do - leave a note. We brought paper and a pen, but I have a better idea. I stick my hand into the red paint, turning to one of the wallpapered walls in the foyer and running my hands over it.

I hear Bea laugh behind me, and Mace stands by my side, a satisfied look on his face. I glance over at Kitty, who grins wickedly, and then turn back to the wall to finish the end of our message.

"Okay, let's go," I say when it is finished. I dump the rest of the paint out on the floor of the parlor, and Mace does the same with the black paint, leaving it to dry in the hallway instead. I wipe my hand, red and dripping, on my jacket. Soon enough, it will be blood staining my jacket once again, and as I look at my Bastards, I am filled with hope. This is not the end for us. Not at all.

I glance back at the words one more time - this is how we will end the message we send to every aristocrat we can. The paint drips ominously, running to the ground, and I turn away from it, the words still clear in my head, saying:

LOVE, YOUR BASTARDS


End file.
